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GEORG EBERS 

III 

THE SISTERS 
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THE HISTORICAL ROMANCES OF 
GEORG EBERS 


THE SISTERS 


Translated from the German by 
Clara Bell 


POPULAR UNIFORM EDITION 


D. APPLETON AND COMPANY 
New York and London 
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Copyright, 1880, 

By WILLIAM S. GOTTSBERGER 


Authorized Edition. 


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DEDICATION 


TO 

HERE EDUARD von HALLBERGER. 

Allow me, my dear friend, to dedicate these pages to you. 
I present them to you at the close of a period of twenty years 
during which a warm and fast friendship has subsisted be- 
tween us, unbroken by any disagreement. Four of my works 
have first seen the light under your care and have wandered 
all over the world under the protection of your name. This, 
my fifth book, I desire to make especially your own; it was 
partly written in your beautiful home at Tutzing, under your 
hospitable roof, and I desire to prove to you by some visible 
token that I know how to value your affection and friendship 
and the many happy hours we have passed together, refreshing 
and encouraging each other by a full and perfect interchange 
of thought and sentiment. v 

Faithfully your friend 


Geokg Ebeks. 




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PREFACE. 


By a marvellous combination of circumstances a 
number of fragments of the Royal Archives of Mem- 
phis have been preserved from destruction with the rest, 
containing petitions written on papyrus in the Greek 
language; these were composed by a recluse of Mace- 
donian birth, living in the Serapeum, in behalf of two 
sisters, twins, who served the god as “ Pourers out of 
the libations.” 

At a first glance these petitions seem scarcely worthy 
of. serious consideration; but a closer study of their 
contents, shows us that we possess in them documents 
of the greatest value in the history of manners. They 
prove that the great Monastic Idea — which under the 
influence of Christianity grew to be of such vast moral 
and historical significance — first struck root in one of 
the centres of heathen religious practices; besides afford- 
ing us a quite unexpected insight into the internal life 
of the temple of Serapis, whose ruined walls have, in 
our own day, been recovered from the sand of the des- 
ert by the indefatigable industry of the French Egypto- 
logist Monsieur Mariette. 

I have been so fortunate as to visit this spot and to 
search through every part of it, and the petitions I 
speak of have been familiar to me for years. When, 
however, quite recently, one'of my pupils undertook to 
study more particularly one of these documents— pre- 


2 


PREFACE. 


served m the Royal Library at Dresden — I myself re* 
investigated it also, and this study impressed on my 
fancy a vivid picture of the Serapeum under Ptolemy 
Philometor; the outlines became clear and firm, and 
acquired color, and it is this picture which I have en- 
deavored to set before the reader, so far as words ad- 
mit, in the following pages. 

I did not indeed select for my hero the recluse, nor 
for my heroines the twins who are spoken of in the 
petitions, but others who might have lived at a some- 
what earlier date under similar conditions; for it is 
proved by the papyrus that it was not once only and 
by accident that twins were engaged in serving in the 
temple of Serapis, but that, on the contrary, pair after 
pair of sisters succeeded each other in the office of 
pouring out libations. 

I have not invested Klea and Irene with this func- 
tion, but have simply placed them as wards of the 
Serapeum and growing up within its precincts. I se- 
lected this alternative partly because the existing sources 
of knowledge give us very insufficient information as 
to the duties that might have been required of the twins, 
partly for other reasons arising out of the plan of my 
narrative. 

Klea and Irene are purely imaginary personages, 
but on the other hand I have endeavored, by working 
from tolerably ample sources, to give a faithful picture 
of the historical physiognomy of the period in which 
they live and move, and portraits of the two hostile 
brothers Ptolemy Philometor and Euergetes II., the 
latter of whom bore the nickname of Physkon: the 
Stout. The Eunuch Eulaeus and the Roman Publius 
Cornelius Scipio Nasica, are also historical personages. 


PREFACE. 


i 

I chose the latter from among the many young patri- 
cians living, at the time, partly on account of the strong 
aristocratic feeling which he displayed, particularly in 
his later life, and partly because his nickname of Sera- 
pion struck me. This name I account for in my own 
way, although I am aware that he owed it to his re- 
semblance to a person of inferior rank. 

For the further enlightenment of the reader who is 
not familiar with this period of Egyptian history I may 
suggest that Cleopatra, the wife of Ptolemy Philometor 
— whom I propose to introduce to the reader — must 
not be confounded with her famous namesake, the be- 
loved of Julius Caesar and Mark Antony. The name 
Cleopatra was a very favorite one among the Lagides, 
and of the queens who bore it she who has become 
famous through Shakespeare (and more lately through 
Makart) was the seventh, the sister and wife of Ptolemy 
XIV. Her tragical death from the bite of a viper or 
asp did not occur until 134 years later than the date of 
my narrative, which I have placed 164 years B. C 

At that time Egypt had already been for 169 years 
subject to the rule of a Greek (Macedonian) dynasty, 
which owed its name as that of the Ptolemies or Lag- 
ides to its founder Ptolemy Soter, the son of Lagus. 
This energetic man, a general under Alexander the 
Great, when his sovereign — 333 B.C. — had conquered 
the whole Nile Valley, was appointed governor of the 
new Satrapy; after Alexander’s death in 323 B.C., 
Ptolemy mounted the throne of the Pharaohs, and he 
and his descendants ruled over Egypt until after the 
death of the last and most famous of the Cleopatras, 
when it was annexed as a province to the Roman Em- 
pire. 




4 


PREFACE. 

This is not the place for giving a history of the suc- 
cessive Ptolemies, but I may remark that the assimila- 
ting faculty exercised by the Greeks over other nations 
was potent in Egypt; particularly as the result of the 
powerful influence of Alexandria, the capital founded 
by Alexander, which developed with wonderful rapidity 
to be one of the most splendid centres of Hellenic cult- 
ure and of Hellenic art and science. 

Long before the united rule of the hostile brothers 
Ptolemy Philometor and Euergetes — whose violent end 
will be narrated to the reader of this story — Greek in- 
fluence was marked in every event and detail of Egyp- 
tian life, which had remained almost unaffected by the 
characteristics of former conquerors — the Hyksos, the 
Assyrians and the Persians; and, under the Ptolemies,, 
the most inhospitable and exclusive nation of early an- 
tiquity threw open her gates to foreigners of every 
race. 

Alexandria was a metropolis even in the modern 
sense; not merely an emporium of commerce, but a 
focus where the intellectual and religious treasures of 
various countries were concentrated and worked up, and 
transmitted to all the nations that .desired them. I 
have resisted the temptation to lay the scene of my 
story there, because in Alexandria the Egyptian element 
was too much overlaid by the Greek, and the too splen- 
did and important scenery and decorations might easily 
have distracted the reader’s attention from the dramatic 
interest of the persons acting. 

At that period of the Hellenic dominion which I 
have described, the kings of Egypt were free to com- 
mand in all that concerned the internal affairs of their 
kingdom, but the rapidly-growing power of the Roman 


PREFACE. 


5 


Empire enabled her to check the extension of their 
dominion, just as she chose. 

Philometor himself had heartily promoted the im- 
migration of Israelites from Palestine, and under him 
the important Jewish community in Alexandria acquired 
an influence almost greater than the Greek; and this 
not only in the city but in the kingdom and over their 
royal protector, who allowed them to build a temple 
to Jehovah on the shores of the Nile, and in his own 
person assisted at the dogmatic discussions of the Israel- 
ites educated in the Greek schools of the city. Euer- 
getes II., a highly gifted but vicious and violent man, 
was, on the contrary, just as inimical to them; he per- 
secuted them cruelly as soon as his brother’s death left 
him sole ruler over Egypt. His hand fell heavily even 
on the members of the Great Academy — the Museum, 
as it was called — of Alexandria, though he himself had 
been devoted to the grave labors of science, and he 
compelled them to seek a new home. The exiled sons 
of learning settled in various cities on the shores of the 
Mediterranean, and thus contributed not a little to the 
diffusion of the intellectual results of the labors in the 
Museum. 

Aristarchus, the greatest of Philometor’s learned 
contemporaries, has reported for us a conversation in 
the king’s palace at Memphis. The verses about “ the 
puny child of man,” recited by Cleopatra in chapter X., 
are not genuinely antique; but Friedrich Ritschl — the 
Aristarchus of our own days, now dead — thought very 
highly of them and gave them to me, some years ago, 
with several variations which had been added by an 
anonymous hand, then still in the land of the living. 
I have added to the first verse two of these, which, as 


6 


PREFACE. 


I learned at the eleventh hour, were composed by Herr 
H. L. von Held, who is now dead, and of whom fur- 
ther particulars may be learned from Varnhagen’s Bio - 
graphischen Denkmalen. Vol. VII. I think the reader 
will thank me for directing his attention to these charm- 
ing lines and to the genius displayed in the moral appli- 
cation of the main idea. Verses such as these might 
very well have been written by Callimachus or some 
other poet of the circle of the early members of the 
Museum of Alexandria.* 

I was also obliged in this narrative to concentrate, 
in one limited canvas as it were, all the features which 

4 4 ' J i 

* These verses, translated in the text, run as follows 1 

“ Sitzt das kleine Menschenkind 
An dem Ocean der Zeit, 

Schopft mit seiner kleinen Hand 
Tropfen aus der Ewigkeit. 

“ Sitzt das kleine Menschenkind, 

Sammelt fliisternde Oeriichte, 

Schreibt sie in ein kleines Buch 

Und dariiber: * Weltgeschichte.’ ’ 


“Schopfte nicht das kleine Menschenkind 
Tropfen aus dem" Ocean der Zeit, 
Was geschieht, verwehte wie der Wind 
In den Abgrund oder Ewigkeit.” 

' ii , I 


‘‘Tropfen aus dem Ocean der Zeit 

Schopft das Menschenkind mit kleiner Hand, 
Spiegelt doch dem Lichte zugewandt 
Sich darin die ganze Ewigkeit.” 


PREFACE. 


7 


were at once the conditions and the characteristics of a 
great epoch of civilization, and to give them form and 
movement by setting the history of some of the men 
then living before the reader, with its complications and 
its denouement. All the personages of my story grew 
up in my imagination from a study of the times in which 
they lived, but when once I saw them clearly in outline 
they soon stood before my mind in a more distinct form, 
like people in a dream ; I felt the poet’s pleasure in 
creation, and as I painted, them their blood grew warm, 
their pulses began to beat and their spirit to take wings 
and stir, each in its appropriate nature. 1 gave history 
her due, but the historic figures retired into the back- 
ground beside the human beings as such; the represen- 
tatives of an epoch became vehicles for a Human Ideal, 
holding good for all time; and thus it is that I venture 
to offer this transcript of a period as really a dramatic 
romance. 

Leipzig November 13, 1879. 


Georg Ebers. 


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THE SISTERS. 


CHAPTER I. 

On the wide, desert plain of the Necropolis of 
Memphis stands the extensive and stately pile of mason- 
ry which constitutes the Greek temple of Serapis; by 
its side are the smaller sanctuaries of Asclepios, of An- 
ubis and of Astarte, and a row of long, low houses, 
built of unburnt bricks, stretches away behind them as 
a troop of beggar children might follow in the train of 
some splendidly attired king. 

The more dazzlingly brilliant the smooth, yellow 
sandstone walls of the temple appear in the light of the 
morning sun, the more squalid and mean do the dingy 
houses look as they crouch in the outskirts. When the 
winds blow round them and the hot sunbeams fall upon 
them, the dust rises from them in clouds as from a dry 
path swept by the gale. Even the rooms inside are 
never plastered, and as the bricks are of dried Nile-mud 
mixed with chopped straw, of which the sharp little 
ends stick out from the wall in every direction, the sur- 
face is as disagreeable to touch as it is unpleasing to 
look at. When they were first built on the ground be- 
tween the temple itself and the wall which encloses the 
precincts, and which, on the eastern side, divides the 
acacia-grove of Serapis in half, they were concealed 

from the votaries visiting the temple by the back wall 
2 


IO 


THE SISTERS. 


of a colonnade on the eastern side of the great fore- 
court; but a portion of this colonnade has now fallen 
down, and through the breach, part of these modest 
structures are plainly visible with their doors and win- 
dows opening towards the sanctuary — or, to speak more 
accurately, certain rudely constructed openings for look- 
ing out of or for entering by. Where there is a door 
there is no window, and where a gap in the wall serves 
for a window, a door is dispensed with; none of the 
chambers, however, of this long row of low one-storied 
buildings communicate with each other. 

A narrow and well-trodden path leads through the 
breach in the wall; the pebbles are thickly strewn with 
brown dust, and the footway leads past quantities of 
blocks of stone and portions of columns destined for 
the construction of a new building which seems only to 
have been intermitted the night before, for mallets and 
levers lie on and near the various materials. This path 
leads directly to the little brick houses, and ends at a 
small closed wooden door so roughly joined and so ill- 
hung that between it and the threshold, which is only 
raised a few inches above the ground, a fine gray cat 
contrives to squeeze herself through by putting down 
her head and rubbing through the dust. As soon as 
she finds herself once more erect on her four legs she 
proceeds to clean and smooth her ruffled fur, putting up 
her back, and glancing with gleaming eyes at the house 
she has just left, behind which at this moment the sun 
is rising; blinded by its bright rays she turns away and 
goes on with cautious and silent tread into the court ot 
the temple. 

The hovel out of which pussy has crept is smali 
and barely furnished; it would be perfectly dark too, 


THE SISTERS. 


II 


but that the holes in the roof and the rift in the door 
admit light into this most squalid room. There is noth- 
ing standing against its rough gray walls but a wooden 
chest, near this a few earthen bowls stand on the ground 
with a wooden cup and a gracefully wrought jug of pure 
and shining gold, which looks strangely out of place 
among such humble accessories. Quite in the back- 
ground lie two mats of woven bast, each covered with 
a sheepskin. These are the beds of the two girls who 
inhabit the room, one of whom is now sitting on a low 
stool made of palm-branches, and she yawns as she be- 
gins to arrange her long and shining brown hair. She 
is not particularly skilful and even less patient over 
this not very easy task, and presently, when a fresh tan- 
gle checks the horn comb with which she is dressing it, 
she tosses the comb on to the couch. She has not 
pulled it through her hair with any haste nor with much 
force, but she shuts her eyes so tightly and sets her 
white teeth so firmly in her red dewy lip that it might 
be supposed that she had hurt herself very much. 

A shuffling step is now audible outside the door; 
she opens wide her tawny-hazel eyes, that have a look 
of gazing on the world in surprise, a smile parts her lips 
and her whole aspect is as completely changed as that 
of a butterfly which escapes from the shade into the 
sunshine where the bright beams are reflected in the 
metallic lustre of its wings. 

A hasty hand knocks at the ill-hung door, so rough- 
ly that it trembles on its hinges, and the instant after a 
wooden trencher is shoved in through the wide chink 
by which the cat made her escape; on it are a thin 
round cake of bread and a shallow earthen saucer con- 
taining a little olive-oil; there is no more than might 


12 


THE SISTERS. 


perhaps be contained in half an ordinary egg-shell, but 
it looks fresh and sweet, and shines in clear, golden puri- 
ty. The girl goes to the door, pulls in the platter, and, 
as she measures the allowance with a glance, exclaims 
half in lament and half in reproach : 

“So little! and is that for both of us?” 

As she speaks her expressive features have changed 
again and her flashing eyes are directed towards the 
door with a glance of as much dismay as though the 
sun and stars had been suddenly extinguished; and yet 
her only grief is the smallness of the loaf, which certain- 
ly is hardly large enough to stay the hunger of one 
young creature — and two must share it; what is a mere 
nothing in one man’s life, to another may be of great 
consequence and of terrible significance. 

The reproachful complaint is heard by the messen- 
ger outside the door, for the old woman who shoved in 
the trencher over the threshold answers quickly but not 
crossly. 

“Nothing more to-day, Irene.” 

“ It is disgraceful,” cries the girl, her eyes filling with 
tears, “every day the loaf grows smaller, and if we 
were sparrows we should not have enough to satisfy us. 
You know what is due to us and I will never cease to 
complain and petition. Serapion shall draw up a fresh 
address for us, and when the king knows how shame- 
fully we are treated — ” 

“Aye! when he knows,” interrupted the old woman. 
“ But the cry of the poor is tossed about by many winds 
before it reaches the king’s ear. I might find a shorter 
way than that for you and your sister if fasting comes 
so much amiss to you. Girls with faces like hers and 
yours, my little Irene, need never come to want.” 


THE SISTERS. 


13 


“ And pray what is my face like?” asked the girl, 
and her pretty features once more seemed to catch a 
gleam of sunshine. 

“Why, so handsome that you may always venture 
to show it beside your sister’s; and yesterday, in the 
procession, the great Roman sitting by the queen 
looked as often at her as at Cleopatra herself. If you 
had been there too he would not have had a glance for 
the queen, for you are a pretty thing, as I can tell you. 
And there are many girls would sooner hear those 
words then have a whole loaf — besides you have a mir- 
ror I suppose, look in that next time you are hungry.” 

The old woman’s shuffling steps retreated again 
and the girl snatched up the golden jar, opened the 
door a little way to let in the daylight and looked at 
herself in the bright surface; but the curve of the costly 
vase showed her features all distorted, and she gaily 
breathed on the hideous travestie that met her eyes, so 
that it was all blurred out by the moisture. Then she 
smilingly put down the jar, and opening the chest took 
from it a small metal mirror into which she looked again 
and yet again, arranging her shining hair first in one 
way and then in another; and she only laid it down 
when she remembered a certain bunch of violets which 
had attracted her attention when she first woke, and 
which must have been placed in their saucer of water 
by her sister some time the day before. Without paus- 
ing to consider she took up the softly scented blossoms, 
dried their green stems on her dress, took up the mirror 
again and stuck the flowers in her hair. 

How bright her eyes were now, and how contented- 
ly she put out her hand for the loaf. And how fair 
were the visions that rose before her young fancy as she 


THE SISTERS. 


14 

broke off one piece after another and hastily eat them 
after slightly moistening them with the fresh oil. Once, 
at the festival of the New Year, she had had a glimpse 
into the king’s tent, and there she had seen men and 
women feasting as they reclined on purple cushions. 
Now she dreamed of tables covered with costly vessels, 
was served in fancy by boys crowned with flowers, 
heard the music of flutes and harps and — for she was 
no more than a child and had such a vigorous young 
appetite — pictured herself as selecting the daintiest and 
sweetest morsels out of dishes of solid gold and eating 
till she was satisfied, aye so perfectly satisfied that the 
very last mouthful of bread and the very last drop of 
oil had disappeared. 

But so soon as her hand found nothing more on the 
empty trencher the bright illusion vanished, and she 
looked with dismay into the empty oil-cup and at the 
place where just now the bread had been. 

“Ah!” she sighed from the bottom of her heart; 
then she turned the platter over as though it might be 
possible to find some more bread and oil on the other 
side of it, but finally shaking her head she sat looking 
thoughtfully into her lap ; only for a few minutes how- 
ever, for the door opened and the slim form of her sister 
Klea appeared, the sister whose meagre rations she had 
dreamily eaten up, and Klea had been sitting up half 
the night sewing for her, and then had gone out before 
sunrise to fetch water from the Well of the Sun for the 
morning sacrifice at the altar of Serapis. 

Klea greeted her sister with a loving glance but 
without speaking; she seemed too exhausted for words 
and she wiped the drops from her forehead with the 
linen veil that covered the back of her head as she seat- 


THE SISTERS. 


*5 


ed herself on the lid of the chest. Irene immediately 
glanced at the empty trencher, considering whether she 
had best confess her guilt to the wearied girl and beg for 
forgiveness, or divert the scolding she had deserved by 
some jest, as she had often succeeded in doing before. 
This seemed the easier course and she adopted it at 
once; she went up to her sister quickly, but not quite 
unconcernedly, and said with mock gravity: 

“Look here, Klea, don’t you notice anything in me? 
I must look like a crocodile that has eaten a whole 
hippopotamus, or one of the sacred snakes after it has 
swallowed a rabbit. Only think when I had eaten my 
own bread I found yours between my teeth — quite un- 
expectedly — but now — ” 

Klea, thus addressed, glanced at the empty platter 
and interrupted her sister with a low-toned exclamation. 
“Oh! I was so hungry.” 

The words expressed no reproof, only utter exhaus- 
tion, and as the young criminal looked at her sister and 
saw her sitting there, tired and worn out but submitting 
to the injury that had been done her without a word of 
complaint, her heart, easily touched, was filled with 
compunction and regret. She burst into tears and 
threw herself on the ground before her, clasping her 
knees and crying, in a voice broken with sobs: 

“Oh Klea! poor, dear Klea, what have I done! but 
indeed I did not mean any harm. I don’t know how 
it happened. Whatever I feel prompted to do I do, I 
can’t help doing it, and it is not till it is done that I be- 
gin to know whether it was right or wrong. You sat 
up and worried yourself for me, and this is how I repay 
you — I am a bad girl! But you shall not go hungry 
— no, you shall not.” 


1 6 


THE SISTERS. 


“Never mind, never mind,” said the elder, and she 
stroked her sister’s brown hair with a loving hand. 

But as she did so she came upon the violets fast- 
ened among the shining tresses. Her lips quivered and 
her weary expression changed as she touched the flow- 
ers and glanced at the empty saucer in which she had 
carefully placed them the day before. Irene at once 
perceived the change in her sister’s face, and thinking 
only that she was surprised at her pretty adornment, 
she said gaily: “ Do you think the flowers becoming to 
me ? ” 

Klea’s hand was already extended to take the vio- 
lets out of the brown plaits, for her sister was still 
kneeling before her, but at this question her arm drop- 
ped, and she said more positively and distinctly than 
she had yet spoken and in a voicp, whose sonorous but 
musical tones were almost masculine and certainly re- 
markable in a girl: 

“The bunch of flowers belongs to me; but keep it 
till it is faded, by mid-day, and then return it to me.” 

“It belongs to you?” repeated the younger girl, 
raising her eyes in surprise to her sister, for to this hour 
what had been Klea’s had been hers also. “ But I al- 
ways used to take the flowers you brought home; what 
is there special in these?” 

“They are only violets like any other violets,” re- 
plied Klea coloring deeply. “But the queen has worn 
them.” 

“ The queen ! ” cried her sister springing to her feet 
and clasping her hands in astonishment. “ She gave you 
the flowers? And you never told me till how? To be 
sure when you came home from the procession yesterday 
you only asked me how my foot was and whether my 


THE SISTERS. 


17 


clothes were whole and then not another mortal 'word 
did you utter. Did Cleopatra herself give you this 
bunch ?” 

“How should she?” retorted Klea. “One of her 
escort threw them to me; but drop the subject pray! 
Give me the water, please, my mouth is parched and I 
can hardly speak for thirst.” 

The bright color, dyed her cheeks again as she spoke, 
but Irene did not observe it, for — delighted to make up 
for her evil doings by performing some little service — 
she ran to fetch the water-jar ; while Klea filled and 
emptied her wooden bowl she said, gracefully lifting a 
small foot, to show to her sister: 

“Look, the cut is almost healed and I can wear my 
sandal again. Now I shall tie it on and go and ask 
Serapion for some bread for you and perhaps he will 
give us a few dates. Please loosen the straps for me a 
little, here, round the ankle, my skin is so thin and ten- 
der that a little thing hurts me which you would hardly 
feel. At mid-day I will go with you and help fill the 
jars for the altar, and later in the day I can accompany 
you in the procession which was postponed from yester- 
day. If only the queen and the great foreigner should 
come again to look on at it ! That would be splendid ! 
Now, I am going, and before you have drunk the last 
bowl of water you shall have some bread, for I will 
coax the old man so prettily that he can’t say ‘no.’” 

Irene opened the door, and as the broad sunlight fell 
in it lighted up tints of gold in her chestnut hair, and 
her sister looking after her could almost fancy that the 
sunbeams had got entangled with the waving glory 
round her head. The bunch of violets was the last 
thing she took note of as Irene went out into the open 


i8 


THE SISTERS. 


air; then she was alone and she shook her head gently 
as she said to herself: “ I give up everything to her 
and what I have left she takes from me. Three times 
have I met the Roman, yesterday he gave me the vio- 
lets, and I did want to keep those for myself — and now 
— ” As she spoke she clasped the bowl she still held in 
her hand closely to her and her lips trembled pitifully, 
but only for an instant; she drew herself up and said 
firmly: “But it is all as it should be.” 

Then she was silent; she set down the water-jar on 
the chest by her side, passed the back of her hand 
across her forehead as if her head were aching, then, as 
she sat gazing down dreamily into her lap, her weary 
head presently fell on her shoulder and she was asleep. 


CHAPTER II. 

The low brick building of which the sisters’ room 
formed a part, was called the Pastophorium, and it was 
occupied also by other persons attached to the service 
of the temple, and by numbers of pilgrims. These 
assembled here from all parts of Egypt, and were glad 
to pass a night under the protection of the sanctuary. 

Irene, when she quitted her sister, went past many 
doors — which had been thrown open after sunrise — 
hastily returning the greetings of many strange as well 
as familiar faces, for all glanced after her kindly as 
though to see her thus early were an omen of happy 
augury, and she soon reached an outbuilding adjoining 
the northern end of the Pastophorium; here there was 
no door, but at the level of about a man’s height from 


THE SISTERS. 


*9 


the ground there were six unclosed windows opening 
on the road. From the first of these the pale and much 
wrinkled face of an old man looked down on the girl 
as she approached. She shouted up to him in cheerful 
accents the greeting familiar to the Hellenes “Rejoice!” 
But he, without moving his lips, gravely and signifi- 
cantly signed to her with his lean hand and with a 
glance from his small, fixed and expressionless eyes 
that she should wait, and then handed out to her a 
wooden trencher on which lay a few dates and half a 
cake of bread. 

“For the altar of the god?” asked the girl. The 
old man nodded assent, and Irene went on with her 
small load, with the assurance of a person who knows 
exactly what is required of her; but after going a few 
steps and before she had reached the last of the six 
windows she paused, for she plainly heard voices and 
steps, and presently, at the end of the Pastophorium 
towards which she was proceeding and which opened 
into a small grove of acacias dedicated to Serapis — 
which was of much greater extent outside the enclosing 
wall — appeared a little group of men whose appearance 
attracted her attention; but she was afraid to go on 
towards the strangers, so, leaning close up to the wall 
ot the houses, she awaited their departure, listening the 
while to what they were saying. 

In front of these early visitors to the temple walked 
a man with a long staff in his right hand speaking to 
the two gentlemen who followed, with the air of a pro- 
fessional guide, who is accustomed to talk as if he were 
reading to his audience out of an invisible book, and 
whom the hearers are unwilling to interrupt with ques- 
tions, because they know that his knowledge scarcely 


20 


THE SISTERS. 


extends beyond exactly what he says. Of his two 
remarkable-looking hearers one was wrapped in a long 
and splendid robe and wore a rich display of gold 
chains and rings, while the other wore nothing over his 
short chiton but a Roman toga thrown over his left 
shoulder. 

His richly attired companion was an old man with 
a full and beardless face and thin grizzled hair. Irene 
gazed at him with admiration and astonishment, but 
when she had feasted her eyes on the stuffs and orna- 
ments he wore, she fixed them w*ith much greater in- 
terest and attention on the tall and youthful figure at his 
side. 

“Like Hui, the cook’s fat poodle, beside a young 
lion,” thought she to herself, as she noted the bustling 
step of the one and the independent and elastic gait of 
the other. She felt irresistibly tempted to mimic the 
older man, but this audacious impulse was soon quelled, 
for scarcely had the guide explained to the Roman that 
it was here that those pious recluses had their cells who 
served the god in voluntary captivity, as being conse- 
crated to Serapis, and that they received their food 
through those windows — here he pointed upwards with 
his staff — when suddenly a shutter, which the cicerone 
of this ill -matched pair had touched with his stick, flew 
open with as much force and haste as if a violent gust 
of wind had caught it, and flung it back against the 
wall. And no less suddenly a man’s head — of ferocious 
aspect and surrounded by a shock of gray hair like a 
lion’s mane — looked out of the window and shouted to 
him who had knocked, in a deep and somewhat over- 
loud voice. 

“ If my shutter had been your back, you impudent 


THE SISTERS. 


21 


rascal, your stick would have hit the right thing. Or if 
I had a cudgel between my teeth instead of a tongue, I 
would exercise it on you till it was as tired as that of a 
preacher who has threshed his empty straw to his con- 
gregation for three mortal hours. Scarcely is the sun 
risen when we are plagued by the parasitical and inquis- 
itive mob. Why ! they will rouse us at midnight next, 
and throw stones at our rotten old shutters. The 
effects of my last greeting lasted you for three weeks — 
to-day’s I hope may act a little longer. You, gentle- 
men there, listen to me. Just as the raven follows an 
army to batten on the dead, so that fellow there stalks 
on in front of strangers in order to empty their pockets — 
and you, who call yourself an interpreter, and in learn- 
ing Greek have forgotten the little Egyptian you ever 
knew, mark this: When you have to guide strangers 
take them to see the Sphinx, or to consult the Apis in 
the temple of Ptah, or lead them to the king’s beast- 
garden at Alexandria, or the taverns at Kanopus, but 
don’t bring them here, for we are neither pheasants, nor 
flute-playing women, nor miraculous beasts, who take 
a pleasure in being stared at. You, gentlemen, ought 
to choose a better guide than this chatter-mag that 
keeps up its perpetual rattle when once you set it going. 
As to yourselves I will tell you one thing : Inquisitive 
eyes are intrusive company, and every prudent house 
holder guards himself against them by keeping his door 
shut.” 

Irene shrank back and flattened herself against the 
pilaster which concealed her, for the shutter closed 
again with a slam, the recluse pulling it to with a rope 
attached to its outer edge, and he was hidden from the 
gaze of the strangers; but only for an instant, for the 


22 


THE SISTERS. 


rusty hinges on which the shutter hung were not strong 
enough to bear such violent treatment, and slowly giv- 
ing way it was about to fall. The blustering hermit 
stretched out an arm to support it and save it; but it 
was heavy, and his efforts would not have succeeded 
had not the young man in Roman dress given his assist- 
ance and lifted up the shutter with his hand and 
shoulder, without any effort, as if it were made of 
willow laths instead of strong planks. 

“A little higher still,” shouted the recluse to his as- 
sistant. “ Let us set the thing on its edge ! so, push 
away, a little more. There, I have propped up the 
wretched thing and there it may lie. If the bats pay 
me a visit to-night I will think of you and give them 
your best wishes.” 

“You may save yourself that trouble,” replied the 
young man with cool dignity. “ I will send you a car- 
penter who shall refix the shutter, and we offer you our 
apologies for having been the occasion of the mischief 
that has happened.” 

The old man did not interrupt the speaker, but, 
when he had stared at him from head to foot, he said : 

“You are strong and you speak fairly, and I might 
like you well enough if you were in other company. I 
don’t want your carpenter; only send me down a ham- 
mer, a wedge, and a few strong nails. Now, you can 
do nothing more for me, so pack off.” 

“We are going at once,” said the more handsomely 
dressed visitor in a thin and effeminate voice. “ What 
can a man do when the boys pelt him with dirt from a 
safe hiding-place, but take himself off.” 

“ Be off, be off,” said the person thus described, with 
a laugh. “As far off as Samothrace if you like, fat 


THE SISTERS. 


23 


Eulaeus; you can scarcely have forgotten the way there 
since you advised the king to escape thither with all 
his treasure. But if you cannot trust yourself to find 
it alone, I recommend you your interpreter and guide 
there to show you the road.” 

The Eunuch Eulaeus, the favorite councillor of King 
Ptolemy — called Philometor (the lover of his mother) 
— turned pale at these words, cast a sinister glance at 
the old man and beckoned to the young Roman; he 
however was not inclined to follow, for the scolding 
old oddity had taken his fancy — perhaps because he 
was conscious that the old man, who generally showed 
no reserve in his dislikes, had a liking for him. Besides, 
he found nothing to object to in his opinion of his com- 
panions, so he turned to Eulaeus and said courteously : 

“Accept my best thanks for your company so far, 
and do not let me detain you any longer from your 
more important occupations on my account.” 

Eulaeus bowed and replied, “ I know what my duty 
is. The king entrusted me with your safe conduct; 
permit me therefore to wait for you under the acacias 
yonder.” 

When Eulaeus and the guide had reached the green 
grove, Irene hoped to find an opportunity to prefer her 
petition, but the Roman had stopped in front of the 
old man’s cell, and had begun a conversation with him 
which she could not venture to interrupt. She set down 
the platter with the bread and dates that had been en- 
trusted to her on a projecting stone by her side with a 
little sigh, crossed her arms and feet as she leaned 
against the wall, and pricked up her ears to hear their 
talk. 

“I am not a Greek,” said the youth, “and you are 


24 


THE SISTERS. 


quite mistaken in thinking that I came to Egypt and to 
see you out of mere curiosity.” 

“But those who come only to pray in the temple,” 
interrupted the other, “do not — as it seems to me — 
choose an Eulaeus for a companion, or any such couple 
as those now waiting for you under the acacias, and in- 
voking anything rather than blessings on your head; 
at any rate, for my own part, even if I were a thief I 
would not go stealing in their company. What then 
brought you to Serapis ? ” 

“ It is my turn now to accuse you of curiosity ! ” 

“By all means,” cried the old man, “I am an hon- 
est dealer and quite willing to take back the coin I am 
ready to pay away. Have you come to have a dream 
interpreted, or to sleep in the temple yonder and have 
a face revealed to you ? ” 

“Do I look so sleepy,” said the Roman, “as to 
want to go to bed again now, only an hour after sun- 
rise?” 

“ It may be,” said the recluse, “ that you have not 
yet fairly come to the end of yesterday, and that at the 
fag-end of some revelry it occurred to you that you 
might visit us and sleep away your headache at Se- 
rapis.” 

“A good deal of what goes on outside these walls 
seems to come to your ears,” retorted the Roman, “and 
if I were to meet you in the street I should take you 
for a ship’s captain or a master-builder who had to 
manage a number of unruly workmen. According to 
what I heard of you and those like you in Athens and 
elsewhere, I expected to find you something quite dif- 
ferent.” 

“What did you expect?” said Serapion laughing. 


THE SISTERS. 


2 5 


“I ask you notwithstanding the risk of being again con- 
sidered curious.” 

“And I am very willing to answer,” retorted the 
other, “ but if I were to tell you the whole truth I should 
run into imminent danger of being sent off as ignomin- 
iously as my unfortunate guide there.” 

“Speak on,” said the old man, “I keep different 
garments for different men, and the worst are not for 
those who treat me to that rare dish — a little truth. 
But before you serve me up so bitter a meal tell me, 
what is your name?” 

“Shall I call the guide?” said the Roman with an 
ironical laugh. “He can describe me completely, and 
give you the whole history of my family. But, joking 
apart, my name is Publius.” 

“The name of at least one out of every three of your 
countrymen.” 

“I am of the Cornelia gens and of the family of 
the Scipios,” continued the youth in a low voice, as 
though he would rather avoid boasting of his illustrious 
name. 

“Indeed, a noble gentleman, a very grand gentle- 
man!” said the recluse, bowing deeply out of his win- 
dow. “But I knew that beforehand, for at your age 
and with such slender ankles to his long legs only a 
nobleman could walk as you walk. Then Publius 
Cornelius—” 

“ Nay, call me Scipio, or rather by my first name only, 
Publius,” the youth begged him. “You are called Se- 
rapion, and I will tell you what you wish to know. 
When I was told that in this temple there were people 
who had themselves locked into their little chambers 
never to quit them, taking thought about their dreams 
3 


26 


THE SISTERS. 


and leading a meditative life, I thought they must be 
simpletons or fools oi both at once.” 

“Just so, just so,” interrupted Serapion. “But there 
is a fourth alternative you did not think of. Suppose 
now among these men there should be some shut up 
against their will, and what if I were one of those pris- 
oners ? I have asked you a great many questions and 
you have not hesitated to answer, and you may know 
how I got into this miserable cage and why I stay in 
it. I am the son of a good family, for my father was 
overseer of the granaries of this temple and was of 
Macedonian origin, but my mother was an Egyptian. 
I was born in an evil hour, on the twenty-seventh day 
of the month of Paophi, a day which it is said in the 
sacred books that it is an evil day and that the child 
that is bom in it must be kept shut up or else it will die 
of a snake-bite. In consequence of this luckless pre- 
diction many of those born on the same day as myself 
were, like me, shut up at an early age in this cage. My 
father would very willingly have left me at liberty, but 
my uncle, a caster of horoscopes in the temple of Ptah, 
who was all in all in my mother’s estimation, and his 
friends with him, found many other evil signs about my 
body, read misfortune for me in the stars, declared that 
the Hathors had destined me to nothing but evil, and 
set upon her so persistently that at last I was destined 
to the cloister — we lived here at Memphis. I owe this 
misery to my dear mother and it was out of pure affec- 
tion that she brought it upon me. You look enquir- 
ingly at me — aye, boy ! life will teach you too the lesson 
that the worst hate that can be turned against you 
often entails less harm upon you than blind tenderness 
which knows no reason. I learned to read and write, 


THE SISTERS. 


2 7 


and all that is usually taught to the priests’ sons, but 
never to accommodate myself to my lot, and I never 
shall. — Well, when my beard grew I succeeded in 
escaping and I lived for a time in the world. I have 
been even to Rome, to Carthage, and in Syria; but at 
last I longed to drink Nile- water once more and I 
returned to Egypt. Why? Because, fool that I was, 
I fancied that bread and water with captivity tasted 
better in my own country than cakes and wine with 
freedom in the land of the stranger. 

“ In my father’s house I found only my mother still 
living, for my father had died of grief. Before my 
flight she had been a tall, fine woman, when I came 
home I found her faded and dying. Anxiety for me, a 
miserable wretch, had consumed her, said the physi- 
cian — that was the hardest thing to bear. When at 
last the poor, good little woman, who could so fondly 
persuade me — a wild . scamp — implored me on her 
death-bed to return to my retreat, I yielded, and swore 
to her that I would stay in my prison patiently to the 
end, for I am as water is in northern countries, a child 
may turn me with its little hand or else I am as hard 
and as cold as crystal. My old mother died soon after 
I had taken this oath. I kept my word as J you see — 
and you have seen too how I endure my fate.” 

“Patiently enough,” replied Publius, “I should 
writhe in my chains far more rebelliously than you, and 
I fancy it must do you good to rage and storm some- 
times as you did just now.” 

“As much good as sweet wine from Chios!” ex- 
claimed the anchorite, smacking his lips as if he tasted 
the noble juice of the grape, and stretching his matted 
head as far as possible out of the window. Thus it 


28 


THE SISTERS. 


happened that he saw Irene, and called out to her in a 
cheery voice: 

“What are you doing there, child? You are stand- 
ing as if you were waiting to say good-morning to good 
fortune.” 

The girl hastily took up the trencher, smoothed 
down her hair with her other hand, and as she ap- 
proached the men, coloring slightly, Publius feasted his 
eyes on her in surprise and admiration. 

But Serapion’s words had been heard by another 
person, who now emerged from the acacia-grove and 
joined the young«Roman, exclaiming before he came 
up with them: 

“Waiting for good fortune! does the old man say? 
And you can hear it said, Publius, and not reply that 
she herself must bring good fortune wherever she ap- 
pears.” 

The speaker was a young Greek, dressed with ex- 
treme care, and he now stuck the pomegranate-blossom 
he carried in his hand behind his ear, so as to shake 
hands with his friend Publius; then he turned his fair, 
saucy, almost girlish face with its finely-cut features up 
to the recluse, wishing to attract his attention to him- 
self by his next speech. 

“With Plato’s greeting ‘to deal fairly and honestly’ 
do I approach you!” he cried; and then he went on 
more quietly: “But indeed you can hardly need such a 
warning, for you belong to those who know how to 
conquer true — that is the inner — freedom; for who can 
be freer than he who needs nothing? And as none can 
be nobler than the freest of the free, accept the tribute 
of my respect, and scorn not the greeting of Lysias of 
Corinth, who, like Alexander, would fain exchange lots 


THE SISTERS. 


2 9 


with you, the Diogenes of Egypt, if it were vouchsafed 
to him always to see out the window of your mansion — 
otherwise not very desirable — the charming form of 
this damsel — ” 

“That is enough, young man,” said Serapion, inter- 
rupting the Greek’s flow of words. “This young girl 
belongs to the temple, and any one who is tempted to 
speak to her as if she were a flute-player will have to 
deal with me, her protector. Yes, with me; and your 
friend here will bear me witness that it may not be 
altogether to your advantage to have a quarrel with 
such as I. Now, step back, young gentlemen, and let 
the girl tell me what she needs.” 

When Irene stood face to face with the anchorite, 
and had told him quickly and in a low voice what she 
had done, and that her sister Klea was even now wait- 
ing for her return, Serapion laughed aloud, and then said 
in a low tone, but gaily, as a father teases his daughter: 

“She has eaten enough for two, and here she 
stands, on her tiptoes, reaching up to my window, as 
if it were not an over-fed girl that stood in her garments, 
but some airy sprite. We may laugh, but Klea, poor 
thing, she must be hungry ?” 

Irene made no reply, but she stood taller on tiptoe 
than ever, put her face up to Serapion, nodding her 
pretty head at him again and again, and as she looked 
roguishly and yet imploringly into his eyes Serapion 
went on: 

“ And so I am to give my breakfast to Klea, that is 
what you want; but unfortunately that breakfast is a 
thing of the past and beyond recall; nothing is left of 
it but the date-stones. But there, on the trencher in 
your hand, is a nice little meal.” 


30 


THE SISTERS. 


“That is the offering to Serapis sent by old Phibis,” 
answered the girl. 

“Hm, hm — oh! of course!” muttered the old man. 
“So long as it is for a god — surely he might do without 
it better than a poor famishing girl.” 

Then he went on, gravely and emphatically, as a 
teacher who has made an incautious speech before his 
pupils endeavors to rectify it by another of more solemn 
import. 

“Certainly, things given into our charge should 
never be touched; besides, the gods first and man after- 
wards. Now if only I knew what to do. But, by the 
soul of my father! Serapis himself sends us what we 
need. Step close up to me, noble Scipio — or Publius, 
if I may so call you — and look out towards the acacias. 
Do you see my favorite, your cicerone, and the bread 
and roast fowls that your slave has brought him in that 
leathern wallet? And now he is setting a wine-jar 
on the carpet he has spread at the big feet of 
Eulaeus — they will be calling you to share the meal 
in a minute, but I know of a pretty child who is very 
hungry — for a little white cat stole away her break- 
fast this morning. Bring me half a loaf and the wing 
of a fowl, and a few pomegranates if you like, or 
one of the peaches Eulaeus is so judiciously fingering. 
Nay — you may bring two of them, I have a use for 
both.” 

“ Serapion ! ” exclaimed Irene in mild reproof and 
looking down at the ground, but the Greek answered 
with prompt zeal, “ More, much more than that I can 
bring you. I hasten — ” 

“Stay here,” interrupted Publius with decision, hold- 
ing him back by the shoulder. “Serapion’s request was 


THE SISTERS. 


31 


addressed to me, and I prefer to do my friend’s pleasure 
in my own person.” 

“ Go then,” cried the Greek after Publius as he hur- 
ried away. “You will not allow me even thanks from 
the sweetest lips in Memphis. Only look, Serapion, 
what a hurry he is in. And now poor Eulaeus has to 
get up; a hippopotamus might learn from him how to 
do so with due awkwardness. Well! I call that mak- 
ing short work of it — a Roman never asks before he 
takes; he has got all he wants and Eulaeus looks after 
him like a cow whose calf has been stolen from her; 
to be sure I myself would rather eat peaches than see 
them carried away! Oh if only the people in the 
Forum could see him now! Publius Cornelius Scipio 
Nasica, own grandson to the great Africanus, serving 
like a slave at a feast with a dish in each hand! Well 
Publius, what has Rome the all conquering brought 
home this time in token of victory ? ” 

“Sweet peaches and a roast pheasant,” said Corne- 
lius laughing, and he handed two dishes into the an- 
chorite’s window; “there is enough left still for the old 
man.” 

“ Thanks, many thanks ! ” cried Serapion, beckoning 
to Irene, and he gave her a golden-yellow cake of 
wheaten bread, half of the roast bird, already divided 
by Eulaeus, and two peaches, and whispered to her: 
“ Klea may come for the rest herself when these men 
are gone. Now thank this kind gentleman and go.” 

For an instant the girl stood transfixed, her face 
crimson with confusion and her glistening white teeth 
set in her nether lip, speechless, face to face with the 
young Roman and avoiding the earnest gaze of his 
black eyes. Then she collected herself and said: 


3 2 


THE SISTERS. 


“You are very kind. I cannot make any pretty 
speeches, but I thank you most kindly.” 

“ And your very kind thanks,” replied Publius, “ add 
to the delights of this delightful morning. I should very 
much like to possess one of the violets out of your hair 
in remembrance of this day — and of yOu.” 

“Take them all,” exclaimed Irene, hastily taking 
the bunch from her hair and holding them out to the 
Roman; but before he could take them she drew back 
her hand and said with an air of importance: 

“The queen has had them in her hand. My sister 
Klea got them yesterday in the procession.” 

Scipio’s face grew grave at these words, and he asked 
with commanding brevity and sharpness: 

“ Has your sister black hair and is she taller than 
you are, and did she wear a golden fillet in the proces- 
sion? Did she give you these flowers? Yes — do you 
say? Well then, she had the bunch from me, but al- 
though she accepted them she seems to have taken very 
little pleasure in them, for what we value we do not 
give away — so there they may go, far enough!” 

With these words he flung the flowers over the house 
and then he went on : 

“ But you, child, you shall be held guiltless of their 
loss. Give me your pomegranate-flower, Lysias!” 

“Certainly not,” replied the Greek. “You chose to 
do pleasure to your friend Serapion in your own person 
when you kept me from going to fetch the peaches, and 
now I desire to offer this flower to the fair Irene with 
my own hand.” 

“Take this flower,” said Publius, turning his back 
abruptly on the girl, while Lysias laid the blossom on 
the trencher in the maiden’s hand; she felt the rough 


THE SISTERS. 


33 


manners of the young Roman as if she had been touched 
by a hard hand; she bowed silently and timidly and 
then quickly ran home. 

Publius looked thoughtfully after her till Lysias 
called out to him: 

“ What has come over me ? Has saucy Eros per- 
chance wandered by mistake into the temple of gloomy 
Serapis this morning ? ” 

“That would not be wise,” interrupted the recluse, 
“for Cerberus, who lies at the foot of our God, would 
soon pluck the fluttering wings of the airy youngster,” 
and as he spoke he looked significantly at the Greek. 

“Aye! if he let himself be caught by the three-headed 
monster,” laughed Lysias. “ But come away now, Pub- 
lius; Eulaeus has waited long enough.” 

“You go to him then,” answered the Roman, “I 
will follow soon; but first I have a word to say to Se- 
rapion.” 

Since Irene’s disappearance, the old man had turned 
his attention to the acacia-grove where Eulaeus was still 
feasting. When the Roman addressed him he said, 
shaking his great head with dissatisfaction : 

“Your eyes of course are no worse than mine. 
Only look at that man munching and moving his jaws 
and smacking his lips. By Serapis! you can tell the 
nature of a man by watching him eat. You know I sit 
in my cage unwillingly enough, but I am thankful for 
one thing about it, and that is that it keeps me far from 
all that such a creature as Eulaeus calls enjoyment — for 
such enjoyment, I tell you, degrades a man.” 

“Then you are more of a philosopher than you wish 
to seem,” replied Publius. 

“I wish to seem nothing,” answered the anchorite. 


34 


THE SISTERS. 


“For it is all the same to me what others think of me. 
But if a man who has nothing to do and whose quiet is 
rarely disturbed, and who thinks his own thoughts 
about many things is a philosopher, you may call me 
one if you like. If at any time you should need advice 
you may come here again, for I like you, and you 
might be able to do me an important service.” 

“Only speak,” interrupted the Roman, “I should 
be glad from my heart to be of any use to you.” 

“ Not now,” said Serapion softly. “ But come again 
when you have time — without your companions there, 
of course — at any rate without Eulaeus, who of all the 
scoundrels I ever came across is the very worst. It 
may be as well to tell you at once that what I might 
require of you would concern not myself but the weal 
or woe of the water-bearers, the two maidens you have 
seen and who much need protection.” 

“ I came here for my parents’ sake and for Klea’s, 
and not on your account,” said Publius frankly. “There 
is something in her mien and in her eyes which perhaps 
may repel others but which attracts me. How came so 
admirable a creature in your temple ? ” 

“When you come again,” replied the recluse, “I 
will tell you the history of the sisters and what they owe 
to Eulaeus. Now go, and understand me when I say 
the girls are well guarded. This observation is for the 
benefit of the Greek who is but a heedless fellow; but 
you, when you know who the girls are, will help me to 
protect them.” 

“That I would do as it is, w r ith real pleasure,” re- 
plied Publius; he took leave of the recluse and called 
out to Eulaeus. 

“What a delightful morning it has been!” 


THE SISTERS. 


35 


“It would have been pleasanter for me,” replied 
Eulaeus, “ if you had not deprived me of your company 
for such a long time.” 

“That is to say,” answered the Roman, “that I have 
stayed away longer than I ought.” 

“You behave after the fashion of your race,” said 
the other bowing low. “They have kept even kings 
waiting in their ante-chambers.” 

“But you do not wear a crown,” said Publius eva- 
sively. “And if any one should know how to wait it 
is an old courtier, who — ” 

“When it is at the command of his sovereign,” 
interrupted Eulaeus, “the old courtier may submit, even 
when youngsters choose to treat him with contempt.” 

“That hits us both,” said Publius, turning to Lysias. 
“Now you may answer him, I have heard and said 
enough.” 


CHAPTER III. 

Irene’s foot was not more susceptible to the 
chafing of a strap than her spirit to a rough or an un- 
kind word; the Roman’s words and manner had hurt 
her feelings. 

She went towards home with a drooping head and 
almost crying, but before she had reached it her eyes 
fell on the peaches and the roast bird she was carrying. 
Her thoughts flew to her sister and how much the 
famishing girl would relish so savory a meal; she 
smiled again, her eyes shone with pleasure, and she 
went on her way with a quickened step. It never once 


3 6 


THE SISTERS. 


occurred to her that Klea would ask for the violets, or 
that the young Roman could be anything more to her 
sister than any other stranger. 

She had never had any other companion than Klea, 
and after work, when other girls commonly discussed 
their longings and their agitations and the pleasures 
and the torments of love, these two used to get home 
so utterly wearied that they wanted nothing but peace 
and sleep. If they had sometimes an hour for idle chat 
Klea ever and again would tell some story of their old 
home, and Irene, who even within the solemn walls of 
the temple of Serapis sought and found many innocent 
pleasures, would listen to her willingly, and interrupt 
her with questions and with anecdotes of small events 
or details which she fancied she remembered of her 
early childhood, but which in fact she had first learnt 
from her sister, though the force of a lively imagination 
had made them seem a part and parcel of her own 
experience. 

Klea had not observed Irene’s long absence since, 
as we know, shortly after her sister had set out, over- 
powered by hunger and fatigue she had fallen asleep. 
Before her nodding head had finally sunk and her 
drooping eyelids had closed, her lips now and then 
puckered and twitched as if with grief ; then her fea- 
tures grew tranquil, her lips parted softly and* a smile 
gently lighted up her blushing cheeks, as the breath of 
spring softly thaws a frozen blossom. This sleeper was 
certainly not born for loneliness and privation, but to 
enjoy and to keep love and happiness. 

It was warm and still, very still in the sisters’ little 
room. The buzz of a fly was audible now and again, 
as it flew round the little oil-cup Irene had left empty, 


THE SISTERS. 


37 


and now and again the breathing of the sleeper, coming 
more and more rapidly. Every trace of fatigue had 
vanished from Klea’s countenance, her lips parted and 
pouted as if for a kiss, her cheeks glowed, and at last 
she raised both hands as if to defend herself and stam- 
mered out in her dream, “No, no, certainly not — pray, 
do not ! my love — ” Then her arm fell again by her 
side, and dropping on the chest on w'hich she was sitting, 
the blow woke her. She slowly opened her eyes with 
a happy smile; then she raised her long silken lashes 
till her eyes were open, and she gazed fixedly on va- 
cancy as though something strange had met her gaze. 
Thus she sat for some time without moving; then she 
started up, pressed her hand on her brow and eyes, and 
shuddering as if she had seen something horrible or 
were shivering with ague, she murmured in gasps, while 
she clenched her teeth : 

“What does this mean? How come I by such 
thoughts? What demons are these that make us do 
and feel things in our dreams which when we are wak- 
ing we should drive far, far from our thoughts? I 
could hate myself, despise and hate myself for the sake 
of those dreams since, wretch that I am! I let him 
put his arm round me — and no bitter rage — ah! no — 
something quite different, something exquisitely sweet, 
thrilled through my soul.” 

As she spoke, she clenched her fists and pressed 
them against her temples; then again her arms dropped 
languidly into her lap, and shaking her head she went 
on in an altered and softened voice: 

“ Still — it was only in a dream and — Oh ! ye eternal 
gods — when we are asleep — well! and what then? Has 
it come to this; to impure thoughts I am adding self- 


38 


THE SISTERS. 


deception! No, this dream was sent by no demon, it 
was only a distorted reflection of what I felt yesterday 
and the day before, and before that even, when the tall 
stranger looked straight into my eyes — four times he 
has done so now — and then — how many hours ago, 
gave me the violets. Did I even turn away my face or 
punish his boldness with an angry look? Is it not 
sometimes possible to drive away an enemy with a 
glance? I have often succeeded when a man has 
looked after us; but yesterday I could not, and I was 
as wide awake then as I am at this moment. What 
does the stranger want with me ? What is it he asks 
with his penetrating glance, which for days has followed 
me wherever I turn, and robs me of peace even in my 
sleep? Why should I open my eyes — the gates of the 
heart — to him? And now the poison poured in 
through them is seething there; but I will tear it out, 
and when Irene comes home I will tread the violets into 
the dust, or leave them with her; she will soon pull them 
to pieces or leave them to wither miserably — for I will 
remain pure-minded, even in my dreams — what have I 
besides in the world?” 

At these words she broke off her soliloquy, for she 
heard Irene’s voice, a sound that must have had a favor- 
able effect on her spirit, for she paused, and the bitter 
expression her beautiful features had but just now worn 
disappeared as she murmured, drawing a deep breath: 

“ I am not utterly bereft and wretched so long as I 
have her, and can hear her voice.” 

Irene, on her road home, had given the modest 
offerings of the anchorite Phibis into the charge of one 
of the temple-servants to lay before the altar of Serapis, 
and now as she came into the room she hid the platter 


THE SISTERS. 


39 


with the Roman’s donation behind her, and while still 
in the doorway, called out to her sister : 

“ Guess now, what have I here ? ” 

‘‘Bread and dates from Serapion,” replied Klea. 

“Oh, dear no!” cried the other, holding out the 
plate to her sister, “the very nicest dainties, fit for gods 
and kings. Only feel this peach, does not it feel as 
soft as one of little Philo’s cheeks? If I could always 
provide such a substitute you would wish I might eat 
up your breakfast every day. And now do you know 
who gave you all this? No, that you will never guess! 
The tall Roman gave them me, the same you had the 
violets from yesterday.” 

Klea’s face turned crimson, and she said shortly 
and decidedly: 

“ How do you know that ? ” 

“ Because he told me so himself,” replied Irene in a 
very altered tone, for her sister’s eyes were fixed upon 
her with an expression of stern gravity, such as Irene 
had never seen in her before. 

“And where are the violets?” asked Klea. 

“ He took them, and his friend gave me this pome- 
granate-flower,” stammered Irene. “ He himself want- 
ed to give it me, but the Greek — a handsome, merry 
man — would not permit it, and laid the flower there on 
the platter. Take it — but do not look at me like that 
any longer, for I cannot bear it!” 

“I do not want it,” said her sister, but not sharply; 
then, looking down, she asked in a low voice: “Did the 
Roman keep the violets ? ” 

“He kept — no, Klea — I will not tell you a lie! He 
flung them over the house, and said such rough things 
as he did it, that I was frightened and turned my back 


40 


THE SISTERS. 


upon him quickly, for I felt the tears coming into my 
eyes. What have you to do with the Roman ? I feel 
so anxious, so frightened — as I do sometimes when a 
storm is gathering and I am afraid of it. And how 
pale your lips are ! that comes of long fasting, no doubt 
— eat now, as much as you can. But Klea! why do 
you look at me so — and look so gloomy and terrible ? 
I cannot bear that look, I cannot bear it!” 

Irene sobbed aloud, and her sister went up to her, 
stroked her soft hair from her brow, kissed her kindly, 
and said : 

“ I am not angry with you, child, and did not mean 
to hurt you. If only I could cry as you do when 
clouds overshadow my heart, the blue sky would shine 
again with me as soon as it does with you. Now dry 
your eyes, go up to the temple, and enquire at what 
hour we are to go to the singing-practice, and when 
the procession is to set out.” 

Irene obeyed; she went out with downcast eyes, 
but once out she looked up again brightly, for she re- 
membered the procession, and it occurred to her that she 
would then see again the Roman’s gay acquaintance, 
and turning back into the room she laid her pome- 
granate-blossom in the little bowl out of which she had 
formerly taken the violets, kissed her sister as gaily as 
ever, and then reflected as to whether she would wear 
the flower in her hair or in her bosom. Wear it, at any 
rate, she must, for she must show plainly that she knew 
how to value such a gift. 

As soon as Klea was alone she seized the trencher 
with a vehement gesture, gave the roast bird to the 
gray cat, who had stolen back into the room, turning 
away her head, for the mere smell of the pheasant was 


THE SISTERS. 


41 


like an insult. Then, while the cat bore off her welcome 
spoils into a corner, she clutched a peach and raised 
her hand to fling it away through a gap in the roof of 
the room; but she did not carry out her purpose, for it 
occurred to her that Irene and little Philo, the son of 
the gate-keeper, might enjoy the luscious fruit; so she 
laid it back on the dish and took up the bread, for she 
was painfully hungry. 

She was on the point of breaking the golden-brown 
cake, but acting on a rapid impulse she tossed it back 
on the trencher saying to herself: “At any rate I will 
owe him nothing; but I will not throw away the gifts 
of the gods as he threw away my violets, for that would 
be a sin. All is over between him and me, and if he 
appears to-day in the procession, and if he chooses to 
look at me again I will compel my eyes to avoid meet- 
ing his — aye, that I will, and will carry it through. 
But, Oh eternal gods! and thou above all, great Serapis, 
whom I heartily serve, there is another thing I cannot 
do without your aid. Help me, oh! help me to forget 
him, that my very thoughts may remain pure.” 

With these words she flung herself on her knees be- 
fore the chest, pressed her brow against the hard wood, 
and strove to pray. 

Only for one thing did she entreat the gods; for 
strength to forget the man who had betrayed her into 
losing her peace of mind. 

But just as swift clouds float across the sky, distract- 
ing the labors of the star-gazer, who is striving to ob- 
serve some remote planet — as the clatter of the street 
interrupts again and again some sweet song we fain 
would hear, marring it with its harsh discords — so again 
and again the image of the young Roman came across 
4 


42 


THE SISTERS. 


Klea’s prayers for release from that very thought, and 
at last it seemed to her that she was like a man who 
strives to raise a block of stone by the exertion of his 
utmost strength, and who weary at last of lifting the 
stone is crushed to the earth by its weight; still she felt 
that, in spite of all her prayers and efforts, the enemy 
she strove to keep off only came nearer, and instead of 
flying from her, overmastered her soul with a grasp from 
which she could not escape. 

Finally she gave up the unavailing struggle, cooled 
her burning face with cold water, and tightened the 
straps of her sandals to go to the temple; near the god 
himself she hoped she might in some degree recover 
the peace she could not find here. 

Just at the door she met Irene, who told her that 
the singing-practice was put off, on account of the pro- 
cession which was fixed for four hours after noon. And 
as Klea went towards the temple her sister called after 
her. 

“ Do not stay too long though, water will be wanted 
again directly for the libations.” 

“Then will you go alone to the work ? ” asked Klea; 
“ there cannot be very much wanted, for the temple will 
soon be empty on account of the procession. A few 
jars-full will be enough. There is a cake of bread and 
a peach in there for you; I must keep the other for little 
Philo.” 


THE SISTERS. 


43 


CHAPTER IV. 

Klea went quickly on towards the temple, without 
listening to Irene’s excuses. She paid no heed to the 
worshippers who filled the forecourt, praying either with 
heads bent low or with uplifted arms or, if they were of 
Egyptian extraction, kneeling on the smooth stone 
pavement, for, even as she entered, she had already be- 
gun to turn in supplication to the divinity. 

She crossed the great hall of the sanctuary, which 
was open only to the initiated and to the temple-ser- 
vants, of whom she was one. Here all around her 
stood a crowd of slender columns, their shafts crowned 
with gracefully curved flower calyxes, like stems sup- 
porting lilies, over her head she saw in the ceiling an 
image of the midnight sky with the bright, unresting and 
ever-restful stars; the planets and fixed stars in their 
golden barks looked down on her silently. Yes! here 
were the twilight and stillness befitting a personal com- 
munion with the divinity. 

The pillars appeared to her fancy like a forest of 
giant growth, and it seemed to her that the perfume of 
the incense emanated from the gorgeous floral capitals 
that crowned them; it penetrated her senses, which 
were rendered more acute by fasting and agitation, with 
a sort of intoxication. Her eyes were raised to heaven, 
her arms crossed over her bosom as she traversed this 
vast hall, and with trembling steps approached a 
smaller and lower chamber, where in the furthest 
and darkest background a curtain of heavy and 


44 


THE SISTERS. 


costly material veiled the brazen door of the holy of 
holies. 

Even she was forbidden to approach this sacred 
place; but to-day -she was so filled with longing for the 
inspiring assistance of the god, that she went on to the 
holy of holies in spite of the injunction she had never 
yet broken, not to approach it. Filled with reverent 
awe she sank down close to the door of the sacred 
chamber, shrinking close into the angle formed between 
a projecting door-post and the wall of the great hall. 

The craving desire to seek and find a power outside 
us as guiding the path of our destiny is common to 
every nation, to every man; it is as surely innate in 
every being gifted with reason — many and various as 
these are — as the impulse to seek a cause when we per- 
ceive an effect, to see when light visits the earth, or to 
hear when swelling waves of sound fall on our ear. 
Like every other gift, no doubt that of religious sensi- 
bility is bestowed in different degrees on different natures. 
In Klea it had always been strongly developed, and a 
pious mother had cultivated it by precept and example, 
while her father always had taught her one thing only: 
namely to be true, inexorably true, to others as to her- 
self. 

Afterwards she had been daily employed in the ser- 
vice of the god whom she was accustomed to regard as 
the greatest and most powerful of all the immortals, for 
often from a distance she had seen the curtain of the 
sanctuary pushed aside, and the statue of Serapis with 
the Kalathos on his head, and a figure of Cerberus at 
his feet, visible in the half-light of the holy of holies; 
and a ray of light, flashing through the darkness as by a 
miracle, would fall upon his brow and kiss his lips when 


THE SISTERS. 


45 


his goodness was sung by the priests in hymns of praise. 
At other times the tapers by the side of the god would 
be lighted or extinguished spontaneously. 

Then, with the other believers, she would glorify the 
great lord of the other world, who caused a new sun 
to succeed each that was extinguished, and made life 
grow up out of death; who resuscitated the dead, lilt- 
ing them up to be equal with him, if on earth they had 
reverenced truth and were found faithful by the judges 
of the nether world. 

Truth — which her father had taught her to regard 
as the best possession of life — was rewarded by Serapis 
above all other virtues; hearts were weighed before him 
in a scale against truth, and whenever Klea tried to pict- 
ure the god in human form he wore the grave and 
mild features of her father, and she fancied him speak- 
ing in the words and tones of the man to whom she 
owed her being, who had been too early snatched from 
her, who had endured so much for righteousness’ sake, 
and from whose lips she had never heard a single word 
that might not have beseemed the god himself. And, 
as she crouched closely in the dark angle by the holy 
of holies, she felt herself nearer to her father as well as 
to the god, and accused herself pitilessly, in that un- 
maidenly longings had stirred her heart, that she had 
been insincere to herself and Irene, nay in that if she 
could not succeed in tearing the image of the Roman 
from her heart she would be compelled either to deceive 
her sister or to sadden the innocent and careless nature 
of the impressionable child, whom she was accustomed 
to succor and cherish as a mother might. On her, even 
apparently light matters weighed oppressively, while 
Irene could throw off even grave and serious things, 


4 6 


THE SISTERS. 


blowing them off as it were into the air, like a feather. 
She was like wet clay on which even the light touch of 
a butterfly leaves a mark, her sister like a mirror from 
which the breath that has dimmed it instantly and en- 
tirely vanishes. 

“Great God!” she murmured in her prayer, “I feel 
as if the Roman had branded my very soul. Help 
thou me to efface the mark; help me to become as I 
was before, so that I may look again in Irene’s eyes 
without concealment, pure and true, and that I may be 
able to say to myself, as I was 'wont, that I had thought 
and acted in such a way as my father would approve 
if he could know it.” 

She was still praying thus when the footsteps and 
voices of two men approaching the holy of holies 
startled her from her devotions; she suddenly became 
fully conscious of the fact that she was in a forbidden 
spot, and would be severely punished if she were dis- 
covered. 

“ Lock that door,” cried one of the new-comers to 
his companion, pointing to the door which led from the 
prosekos into the pillared hall, “none, even of the initi- 
ated, need see what you are preparing here for us — ” 

Klea recognized the voice of the high-priest, and 
thought for a moment of stepping forward and confess- 
ing her guilt; but, though she did not usually lack 
courage, she did not do this, but shrank still more 
closely into her hiding-place, which was perfectly dark 
when the brazen door of the room, which had no 
windows, was closed. She now perceived that the 
curtain and door were opened which closed the inmost 
sanctuary, she heard one of the men twirling the stick 
which was to produce fire, saw the first gleam of light 


THE SISTERS. 


47 


from it streaming *out of the holy of holies, and then 
heard the blows of a hammer and the grating sound of 
a file. 

The quiet sanctum was turned into a forge, but noisy 
as were the proceedings within, it seemed to Klea that 
the beating of her own heart was even louder than the 
brazen clatter of the tools wielded by Krates; he was 
one of the oldest of the priests of Serapis, who was 
chief in charge of the sacred vessels, who was wont never 
to speak to any one but the high-priest, and who was 
famous even among his Greek fellow-countrymen for 
the skill with which he could repair broken metal-work, 
make the securest locks, and work in silver and gold. 

When the sisters first came into the temple five 
years since, Irene had been very much afraid of this 
man, who was so small as almost to be a dwarf, broad 
shouldered and powerfully knit, while his wrinkled face 
looked like a piece of rough cork-bark, and he was 
subject to a painful complaint in his feet which often 
prevented his walking; her fears had not vexed but 
only amused the priestly smith, who whenever he met 
the child, then eleven years old, would turn his lips up 
to his big red nose, roll his eyes, and grunt hideously 
to increase the terror that came over her. 

He was not ill-natured, but he had neither wife nor 
child, nor brother, nor sister, nor friend, and every 
human being so keenly desires that others should have 
some feeling about him, that many a one would rather 
be feared than remain unheeded. 

After Irene had got over her dread she would often 
entreat the old man — who was regarded as stern and 
inaccessible by all the other dwellers in the temple — in 
her own engaging and coaxing way to make a face for 


4 8 


THE SISTERS. 


her, and he would do it and laugh When the little one, 
to his delight and her own, was terrified at it and ran 
away ; and just lately when Irene, having hurt her foot, 
was obliged to keep her room for a few days, an un- 
heard of thing had occurred : he had asked Klea with 
the greatest sympathy how her sister was getting on, and 
had given her a cake for her. 

While Krates was at his work not a word passed be- 
tween him and the high-priest. At length he laid down 
the hammer, and said: 

“ I do not much like work of this kind, but this, I 
think, is successful at any rate. Any temple-servant, 
hidden here behind the altar, can now light or extin- 
guish the lamps without the illusion being detected by 
the sharpest. Go now and stand at the door of the 
great hall and speak the word.” 

Klea heard the high-priest accede to this request 
and cry in a chanting voice: “Thus he commands the 
night and it becomes day, and the extinguished taper 
and lo! it flames with brightness. If indeed thou art 
nigh, Oh Serapis! manifest thyself to us.” 

At these words a bright stream of light flashed from 
the holy of holies, and again was suddenly extinguished 
when the high-priest sang: “Thus showest thou thy- 
self as light to the children of truth, but dost punish 
with darkness the children of lies.” 

“Again?” asked Krates in a voice which conveyed 
a desire that the answer might be ‘No.’ 

“I must trouble you,” replied the high-priest. 
“Good! the performance went much better this time. 
I was always well assured of your skill; but consider 
the particular importance of this affair. The two kings 
and the queen will probably be present at the so- 


THE SISTERS. 


49 


lemnity, certainly Philometor and Cleopatra will, and 
their eyes are wide open; then the Roman who has al- 
ready assisted four times at the procession will accom- 
pany them, and if I judge him rightly he, like many of 
the nobles of his nation, is one of those who can trust 
themselves when it is necessary to be content with the 
old gods of their fathers ; and as regards the marvels we 
are able to display to them, they do not take them to 
heart like the poor in spirit, but measure and weigh 
them with a cool and unbiassed mind. People of that 
stamp, who are not ashamed to worship, who do not 
philosophize but only think just so much as is necessary 
for acting rightly, those are the worst contemners of 
every supersensual manifestation.'’ 

“And the students of nature in the Museum?” 
asked Krates. “They believe nothing to be real that 
they cannot see and observe.” 

“And for that very reason,” replied the high-priest, 
“they are often singularly easy to deceive by your skill, 
since, seeing an effect without a cause, they ar • inclined 
to regard the invisible cause as something supersensual. 
Now, open the door again and let us get out by the 
side door; do you, this time, undertake the task of co- 
operating with Serapis yourself. Consider that Philo- 
metor will not confirm the donation of the land unless 
he quits the temple deeply penetrated by the greatness 
of our god. Would it be possible, do you think, to 
have the new censer ready in time for the birthday of 
King Euergetes, which is to be solemnly kept at Mem- 
phis ? ” 

“We will see,” replied Krates, “I must first put to- 
gether the lock of the great door of the tomb of Apis, 
for so long as I have it in my workshop any one can 


THE SISTERS. 


5 ° 

open it who sticks a nail into the hole above the bar, 
and any one can shut it inside who pushes the iron bolt. 
Send to call me before the performance with the lights 
begins; I will come in spite of my wretched feet. As 
I have undertaken the thing I will carry it out, but for 
no other reason, for it is my opinion that even without 
such means of deception — ” 

“We use no deception,” interrupted the high-priest, 
sternly rebuking his colleague. “We only present to 
short-sighted mortals the creative power of the divinity 
in a form perceptible and intelligible to their senses.” 

With these words the tall priest turned his back on 
the smith and quitted the hall by a side door; Krates 
opened the brazen door, and as he gathered together 
his tools he said to himself, but loud enough for Klea 
to hear him distinctly in her hiding-place: 

“It may be right for me, but deceit is deceit, 
whether a god deceives a king or a child deceives a 
beggar.” 

“Deceit is deceit,” repeated Klea after the smith 
when he had left the hall and she had emerged from 
her corner. 

She stood still for a moment and looked round her. 
For the first time she observed the shabby colors on 
the walls, the damage the pillars had sustained in the 
course of years, and the loose slabs in the pavement. 

The sweetness of the incense sickened her, and as 
she passed by an old man who threw up his arms in 
fervent supplication, she looked at him with a glance of 
compassion. 

When she had passed out beyond the pylons enclos- 
ing the temple she turned round, shaking her head in a 
puzzled way as she gazed at it; for she knew that not 


THE SISTERS. 


Si 

a stone had been changed within the last hour, and yet 
it looked as strange in her eyes as some landscape with 
which we have become familiar in all the beauty of 
spring, and see once more in winter with its trees bare 
of leaves ; or like the face of a woman which we thought 
beautiful under the veil which hid it, and which, when 
the veil is raised, we see to be wrinkled and devoid of 
charm. 

When she had heard the smith’s words, “ Deceit is 
deceit,” she felt her heart shrink as from a stab, and could 
not check the tears w’hich started to her eyes, unused 
as they were to weeping; but as soon as she had re- 
peated the stem verdict with her own lips her tears had 
ceased, and now she stood looking at the temple like a 
traveller who takes leave of a dear friend; she was ex- 
cited, she breathed more freely, drew herself up taller, 
and then turned her back on the sanctuary of Serapis, 
proudly though with a sore heart. 

Close to the gate-keeper’s lodge a child came totter- 
ing towards her with his arms stretched up to her. She 
lifted him up, kissed him, and then asked the mother, 
who also greeted her, for a piece of bread, for her hun- 
ger was becoming intolerable. While she ate the dry 
morsel the child sat on her lap, following with his large 
eyes the motion of her hand and lips. The boy was 
about five years old, with legs so feeble that they could 
scarcely support the weight of his body, but he had a 
particularly sweet little face; certainly it was quite with- 
out expression, and it was only when he saw Klea 
coming that tiny Philo’s eyes had lighted up with 
pleasure. 

“ Drink this milk,” said the child’s mother, offering 
the young girl an earthen bowl. “There is not much 


5 2 


THE SISTERS. 


and I could not spare it if Philo would eat like other 
children, but it seems as if it hurt him to swallow. He 
drinks two or three drops and eats a mouthful, and 
then will take no more even if he is beaten.” 

“You have not been beating him again?” said Klea 
reproachfully, and drawing the child closer to her. 

“My husband — ” said the woman, pulling at her 
dress in some confusion. “The child was bom on a 
good day and in a lucky hour, and yet he is so puny 
and weak and will not learn to speak, and that provokes 
Pianchi.” 

“He will spoil everything again!” exclaimed Klea 
annoyed. “Where is he?” 

“He was wanted in the temple.” 

“And is he not pleased that Philo calls him ‘father,’ 
and you ‘mother,’ and me by my name, and that he 
learns to distinguish many things ? ” asked the girl. 

“Oh, yes of course,” said the woman. “He says 
you are teaching him to speak just as if he were a star- 
ling, and we are very much obliged to you.” 

“That is not what I want,” interrupted Klea. 
“What I wish is that you should not punish and scold 
the boy, and that you should be as glad as I am when 
you see his poor little dormant soul slowly waking up. 
If he goes on like this, the poor little fellow will be 
quite sharp and intelligent. What is my name, my 
little one?” 

“ Ke-ea,” stammered the child, smiling at his friend. 

“And now taste this that I have in my hand; what 
is it? — I see you know. It is called — whisper in my 
ear. That’s right, mil — mil — milk ! to be sure, my tiny 
it is milk. Now open your little mouth and say it 
prettily after me — once more — and again — say it twelve 


THE SISTERS. 


53 


times quite right and I will give you a kiss — Now you 
have earned a pretty kiss — will you have it here or 
here? Well, and what is this? your ea — ? Yes, your 
ear. And this? — your nose, that is right.” 

The child’s eyes brightened more and more under 
this gentle teaching, and neither Klea nor her pupil 
were weary till, about an hour later, the re-echoing 
sound of a brass gong called her away. As she turned 
to go the little one ran after her crying; she took him 
in her arms and carried him back to his mother, and 
then went on to her own room to dress herself and her 
sister for the procession. On the way to the Pastopho- 
rium she recalled once more her expedition to the tem- 
ple and her prayer there. 

“Even before the sanctuary,” said she to herself, 
“ I could not succeed in releasing my soul from its bur- 
den — it was not till I set to work to loosen the tongue 
of the poor little child. Every pure spot, it seems to 
me, may be the chosen sanctuary of some divinity, and 
is not an infant’s soul purer than the altar where truth 
is mocked at?” 

In their room she found Irene; she had dressed her 
hair carefully and stuck the pomegranate-flower in it, 
and she asked Klea if she thought she looked well. 

“You look like Aphrodite herself,” replied Klea 
kissing her forehead. Then she arranged the folds of 
her sister’s dress, fastened on the ornaments, and pro- 
ceeded to dress herself. While she was fastening her 
sandals Irene asked her, “Why do you sigh so bit- 
terly ?” and Klea replied, “ I feel as if I had lost my 
parents a second time.” 


54 


THE SISTERS. 


CHAPTER V. 

The procession was over. 

At the great service which had been performed be- 
fore him in the Greek Serapeum, Ptolemy Philometor 
had endowed the priests not with the whole but with a 
considerable portion of the land concerning which they 
had approached him with many petitions. After the 
court had once more quitted Memphis and the proces- 
sion was broken up, the sisters returned to their room, 
Irene with crimson cheeks and a smile on her lips, Klea 
with a gloomy and almost threatening light in her 
eyes. 

As the two were going to their room in silence a 
temple-servant called to Klea, desiring her to go with 
him to the high-priest, who wished to speak to her. 
Klea, without speaking, gave her water-jar to Irene and 
was conducted into a chamber of the temple, which was 
used for keeping the sacred vessels in. There she sat 
down on a bench to wait. The two men who in the 
morning had visited the Pastophorium had also followed 
in the procession with the royal family. At the close 
of the solemnities Publius had parted from his companion 
without taking leave, and without looking to the right 
or to the left, he had hastened back to the Pasto- 
phorium and to the cell of Serapion, the recluse. 

The old man heard from afar the younger man’s 
footstep, which fell on the earth with a firmer and more 
decided tread than that of the softly-stepping priests of 
Serapis, and he greeted him warmly with signs and words. 


THE SISTERS. 


55 


Publius thanked him coolly and gravely, and said, dryly 
enough and with incisive brevity: 

“My time is limited. I propose shortly to quit 
Memphis, but I promised you to hear your request, and 
in order to keep my word I have come to see you; 
still — as I have said — only to keep my word. The 
water-bearers of whom you desired to speak to me do 
not interest me — I care no more about them than about 
the swallows flying over the house yonder.” 

“And yet this morning you took a long walk for 
Klea’s sake,” returned Serapion. 

“ I have often taken a much longer one to shoot a 
hare,” answered the Roman. “We men do not pursue 
our game because the possession of it is any temptation, 
but because we love the sport, and there are sporting 
natures even among women. Instead of spears or 
arrows they shoot with flashing glances, and when they 
think they have hit their game they turn their back 
upon it. Your Kleais one of this sort, while the pretty 
little one I saw this morning looks as if she were very 
ready to be hunted — I, however, no more wish to be 
the hunter of a young girl than to be her game. I have 
still three days to spend in Memphis, and then I shall 
turn my back forever on this stupid country.” 

“This morning,” said Serapion, who began to sus- 
pect what the grievance might be which had excited 
the discontent implied in the Roman’s speech, “This 
morning you appeared to be in less hurry to set out 
than now, so to me you seem to be in the plight of 
game trying to escape; however, I know Klea better 
than you do. Shooting is no sport of hers, nor will she 
let herself be hunted, for she has a characteristic which 
you, my friend Publius Scipio, ought to recognize and 


5 6 


THE SISTERS. 


value above all others — she is proud, very proud; aye, 
and so she may be, scornful as you look — as if you 
would like to say ‘how came a water-carrier of Serapis 
by her pride, a poor creature who is ill-fed and always 
engaged in service, pride which is the prescriptive right 
only of those, whom privilege raises above the common 
herd around them ? ’ — But this girl, you may take my 
word for it, has ample reason to hold her head high, 
not only because she is the daughter of free and noble 
parents and is distinguished by rare beauty, not because 
while she was still a child she undertook, with the de- 
votion and constancy of the best of mothers, the care 
of another child — her own sister, but for a reason which, 
if I judge you rightly, you will understand better than 
many another young man; because she must uphold 
her pride in order that among the lower servants with 
whom unfortunately she is forced to work, she may 
never forget that she is a free and noble lady. You can 
set your pride aside and yet remain what you are, but 
if she were to do so and to learn to feel as a servant, 
she would presently become in fact what by nature she 
is not and by circumstances is compelled to be. A fine 
horse made to carry burdens becomes a mere cart-horse 
as soon as it ceases to hold up its head and lift its feet 
freely. Ivlea is proud because she must be proud; and 
if you are just you will not contemn the girl, who per- 
haps has cast a kindly glance at you — since the gods 
have so made you that you cannot fail to please any 
woman — and yet who must repel your approaches be- 
cause she feels herself above being trifled with, even by 
one of the Cornelia gens, and yet too lowly to dare to 
hope that a man like you should ever stoop from your 
height to desire her for a wife. She has vexed you, of 


THU SISTERS. 


57 


that there can be no doubt; how, I can only guess. 
If, however, it has been through her repellent pride, 
that ought not to hurt you, for a woman is like a sold- 
ier, who only puts on his armor when he is threatened 
by an opponent whose weapons he fears.” 

The recluse had rather whispered than spoken these 
words, remembering that he had neighbors; and as he 
ceased the drops stood on his brow, for whenever any- 
thing disturbed him he was accustomed to allow his 
powerful voice to be heard pretty loudly, and it cost 
him no small effort to moderate it for so long. 

Publius had at first looked him in the face, and then 
had gazed, at the ground, and he had heard Serapion to 
the end without interrupting him; but the color had 
flamed in his cheeks as in those of a schoolboy, and yet 
he was an independent and resolute youth who knew 
how to conduct himself in difficult straits as well as a 
man in the prime of life. In all his proceedings he was 
wont to know very well, exactly what he wanted, and 
to do without any fuss or comment whatever he 
thought right and fitting. 

During the anchorite’s speech the question had oc- 
curred to him, what did he in fact expect or wish of the 
water-bearer; but the answer was wanting, he felt 
somewhat uncertain of himself, and his uncertainty and 
dissatisfaction with himself increased as all that he 
heard struck him more and more. He became less and 
less inclined to let himself be thrown over by the young 
girl who for some days had, much against his will, been 
constantly in his thoughts, whose image he would 
gladly have dismissed from his mind, but who, after the 
recluse’s speech, seemed more desirable than ever. 

“Perhaps you are right,” he replied after a short 
5 


5 » 


THE SISTERS. 


silence, and he too lowered his voice, for a subdued 
tone generally provokes an equally subdued answer. 
“You know the maiden better than I, and if you 
describe her correctly it would be as well that I should 
abide by my decision and fly from Egypt, or, at any 
rate, from your protegees, since nothing lies before me 
but a defeat or a victory, which could bring me nothing 
but repentance. Klea avoided my eye to-day as if it 
shed poison like a viper’s tooth, and I can have nothing 
more to do with her: still, might I be informed how 
she came into this temple ? and if I can be of any ser- 
vice to her, I will — for your sake. Tell me now what 
you know of her and what you wish me to do.” 

The recluse nodded assent and beckoned Publius 
to come closer to him, and bowing down to speak into 
the Roman’s ear, he said softly: “Are you in favor with 
the queen?” Publius, having said that he was, Serapion, 
with an exclamation of satisfaction, began his story. 

“You learned this morning how I myself came into 
this cage, and that my father was overseer of the tem- 
ple granaries. While I was wandering abroad he was 
deposed from his office, and would probably have died 
in prison, if a worthy man had not assisted him to save 
his honor and his liberty. All this does not concern 
you, and I may therefore keep it to myself; but this 
man was the father of Klea and Irene, and the enemy 
by whose instrumentality my father suffered innocently 
was the villain Eulseus. You know — or perhaps indeed 
you may not know — that the priests have to pay a 
certain tribute for the king’s maintenance ; you know ? 
To be sure, you Romans trouble yourselves more about 
matters of law and administration than the culture of 
the ^rts or the subtleties of thought, Well, it was my 


THE SISTERS. 


59 


father’s duty to pay these customs over to Eulaeus, who 
received them ; but the beardless effeminate vermin, the 
glutton — may every peach he ever ate or ever is to eat 
turn to poison ! — kept back half of what was delivered 
to him, and when the accountants found nothing but 
empty air in the king’s stores where they hoped to find 
corn and woven goods, they raised an alarm, which of 
course came to the ears of the powerful thief at court 
before it reached those of my poor father. You called 
Egypt a marvellous country, or something like it; and 
so in truth it is, not merely on account of the great 
piles there that you call Pyramids and such like, but 
because things happen here which in Rome would be 
as impossible as moonshine at mid-day, or a horse with 
his tail at the end of his nose! Before a complaint 
could be laid against Eulaeus he had accused my father 
of the peculation, and before the Epistates and the 
assessor of the district had even looked at the indict- 
ment, their judgment on the falsely accused man was 
already recorded, for Eulaeus had simply bought their 
verdict just as a man buys a fish or a cabbage in the 
market. In olden times the goddess of justice was 
represented in this country with her eyes shut, but now 
she looks round on the world like a squinting woman 
who winks at the king with one eye, and glances with 
the other at the money in the hand of the accuser or 
the accused. My poor father was of course condemned 
and thrown into prison, where he was beginning to 
doubt the justice of the gods, when for his sake the 
greatest wonder happened, ever seen in this land of 
wonders since first the Greeks ruled in Alexandria. An 
honorable man undertook without fear of persons the 
lost cause of the poor condemned wretch, and never 


6o 


THE SISTERS. 


rested till he had restored him to honor and liberty. 
But imprisonment, disgrace and indignation had con- 
sumed the strength of the ill-used man as a worm eats 
into cedar wood, and he fell into a decline and died. 
His preserver, Klea’s father, as the reward of his coura- 
geous action fared even worse; for here by the Nile 
virtues are punished in this world, as crimes are with 
you. Where injustice holds sway frightful things occur, 
for the gods seem to take the side of the wicked. 
Those who do not hope for a reward in the next world, 
if they are neither fools nor philosophers — which often 
comes to the same thing — try to guard themselves 
against any change in this. 

“ Philotas, the father of the two girls, whose parents 
were natives of Syracuse, was an adherent of the doc- 
trines of Zeno — which have many supporters among 
you at Rome too — and he was highly placed as an 
official, for he was president of the Chrematistoi, a 
college of judges which probably has no parallel out of 
Egypt, and which has been kept up better than any 
other. It travels about from province to province 
stopping in the chief towns to administer justice. 
When an appeal is brought against the judgment of the 
court of justice belonging to any place — over which the 
Epistates of the district presides — the case is brought 
before the Chrematistoi, who are generally strangers 
alike to the accuser and accused; by them it is tried 
over again, and thus the inhabitants of the provinces 
are spared the journey to Alexandria or — since the 
country has been divided — to MemphiSj where, besides, 
the supreme court is overburdened with cases. 

“No former president of the Chrematistoi had ever 
enjoyed a higher reputation than Philotas. Corruption 


THE SISTERS. 


6 1 


no more dared approach him than a sparrow dare go 
near a falcon, and he was as wise as he was just, for he 
was no less deeply versed in the ancient Egyptian law 
than in that of the Greeks, and many a corrupt judge 
reconsidered matters as soon as it became known that 
he was travelling with the Chrematistoi, and passed a 
just instead of an unjust sentence. 

“ Cleopatra, the widow of Epiphanes, while she was 
living and acting as guardian of her sons Philometor 
and Euergetes — who now reign in Memphis and Alex- 
andria — held Philotas in the highest esteem and con- 
ferred on him the rank of ‘relation to the king’; but 
she was just dead when this worthy man took my 
father’s cause in hand, and procured his release from 
prison. 

“The scoundrel Eulaeus and his accomplice Lenaeus 
then stood at the height of power, for the young king, 
who was not yet of age, let himself be led by them like 
a child by his nurse. 

“Now as my father was an honest man, no one but 
Eulaeus could be the rascal, and as the Chrematistoi 
threatened to call him before their tribunal the miserable 
creature stirred up the war in Coelo-Syria against Anti- 
ochus Epiphanes, the king’s uncle. 

“You know how disgraceful for us was the course 
of that enterprise, how Philometor was defeated near 
Pelusium, and by the advice of Eulaeus escaped with 
his treasure to Samothrace, how Philometor’s brother 
Euergetes was set up as king in Alexandria, how Anti- 
ochus took Memphis, and then allowed his elder 
nephew to continue to reign here as though he were his 
vassal and ward. 

“It was during this period of humiliation, that 


62 


THE SISTERS. 


Eulaeus was able to evade Philotas, whom he may very 
well have feared, as though his own conscience walked 
the earth on two legs in the person of the judge, with 
the sword of justice in his hand, and telling all men 
what a scoundrel he was. 

“ Memphis had opened her gates to Antiochus with- 
out offering much resistance, and the Syrian king, who 
was a strange man and was fond of mixing among the 
people as if he himself were a common man, applied to 
Philotas, who was as familiar with Egyptian manners 
and customs as with those of Greece, in order that he 
might conduct him into the halls of justice and into the 
market-places; and he made him presents as was his 
way, sometimes of mere rubbish and sometimes of 
princely gifts. 

“Then when Philometor was freed by the Romans 
from the protection of the Syrian king, and could 
govern in Memphis as an independent sovereign, Eu- 
laeus accused the father of these two girls of having 
betrayed Memphis into the hands of Antiochus, and 
never rested till the innocent man was deprived of his 
wealth, which was considerable, and sent with his wife 
to forced labor in the gold mines of Ethiopia. 

“When all this occurred I had already returned to 
my cage here; but I heard from my brother Glaucus — 
who was captain of the watch in the palace, and who 
learned a good many things before other people did — 
what was going on out there, and I succeeded in hav- 
ing the daughters of Philotas secretly brought to this 
temple, and preserved from sharing their parents’ fate. 
That is now five years ago, and now you know how it 
happens, that the daughters of a man of rank carry 
water for the altar of Serapis, and that I would rather 


THE SISTERS. 


6 3 


an injury should be done to me than to them, and that 
I would rather see Eulaeus eating some poisonous root 
than fragrant peaches.” 

“And is Philotas still working in the mines?” asked 
the Roman, clenching his teeth with rage. 

“Yes, Publius,” replied the anchorite. “A ‘yes’ 
that it is easy to say, and it is just as easy too to clench 
one’s fists in indignation — but it is hard to imagine the 
torments that must be endured by a man like Philotas, 
and a noble and innocent woman — as beautiful as Hera 
and Aphrodite in one — when they are driven to hard 
and unaccustomed labor under a burning sun by the 
lash of the overseer. Perhaps by this time they have 
been happy enough to die under their sufferings and 
their daughters are already orphans, poor children! No 
one here but the high-priest knows precisely who they 
are, for if Eulaeus were to learn the truth he would send 
them after their parents as surely as my name is 
Serapion.” 

“Let him try it!” cried Publius, raising his right fist 
threateningly. 

“Softly, softly, my friend,” said the recluse, “and 
not now only, but about everything which you under- 
take in behalf of the sisters, for a man like Eulasus 
hears not only with his own ears but with those of a 
thousand others, and almost everything that occurs at 
court has to go through his hands as epistolographer. 
You say the queen is well-disposed towards you. That 
is worth a great deal, for her husband is said to be 
guided by her will, and such a thing as Eulaeus cannot 
seem particularly estimable in Cleopatra’s eyes if prin- 
cesses are like other women — and I know them well.” 

“And even if he were,” interrupted Publius with 


6 4 


THE SISTERS. 


glowing cheeks, “I would bring him to ruin all the 
same, for a man like Philotas must not perish, and his 
cause henceforth is my own. Here is my hand upon 
it; and if I am happy in having descended from a 
noble race it is above all because the word of a son of 
the Cornelii is as good as the accomplished deed of any 
other man.” 

The recluse grasped the right hand the young man 
gave him and nodded to him affectionately, his eyes 
radiant, though moistened with joyful emotion. Then 
he hastily turned his back on the young man, and soon 
reappeared with a large papyrus-roll in his hand. 

“Take this,” he said, handing it to the Roman, “I 
have here set forth all that I have told you, fully and 
truly with .my own hand in the form of a petition. 
Such matters, as I very well know, are never regularly 
conducted to an issue at court unless they are set forth 
in writing. If the queen seems disposed to grant you 
a wish give her this roll, and entreat her for a letter of 
pardon. If you can effect this, all is won.” 

Publius took the roll, and once more gave his hand 
to the anchorite, who, forgetting himself for a moment, 
shouted out in his loud voice: 

“ May the gods bless thee, and by thy means work 
the release of the noblest of men from his sufferings ! 
I had quite ceased to hope, but if you come to our aid 
all is not yet wholly lost.” 


THE SISTERS. 


65 


CHAPTER VI. 

“Pardon me if I disturb you.” 

With these words the anchorite’s final speech was 
interrupted by Eulaeus, who had come in to the Pas- 
tophorium softly and unobserved, and who now bowed 
respectfully to Publius. 

“ May I be permitted to enquire on what con pact 
one of the noblest of the sons of Rome is joining hands 
with this singular personage?” 

“You are free to ask,” replied Publius shortly and 
drily, “but every one is not disposed to answer, and on 
the present occasion I am not. I will bid you farewell, 
Serapion, but not for long I believe.” 

“Am I permitted to accompany you?” asked Eu- 
laeus. 

“You have followed me without any permission on 
my part.” 

“ I did so by order of the king, and am only fulfil- 
ling his commands in offering you my escort now.” 

“ I shall go on, and I cannot prevent your following 
me.” 

“But I beg of you,” said Eulaeus, “to consider that 
it would ill-become me to walk behind you like a 
servant.” 

“I respect the wishes of my host, the king, who 
commanded you to follow me,” answered the Roman. 
“At the door of the temple however you can get into 
your chariot, and I into mine; an old courtier must be 
ready to carry out the orders of his superior.” 


66 


THE SISTERS. 


“And does carry them out,” answered Eulseus with 
deference, but his eyes twinkled — as the forked tongue 
of a serpent is rapidly put out and still more rapidly 
withdrawn — with a flash first of threatening hatred, and 
then another of deep suspicion cast at the roll the 
Roman held in his hand. 

Publius heeded not this glance, but walked quickly 
towards the acacia-grove; the recluse looked after the 
ill-matched pair, and as he watched the burly Eulseus 
following the young man, he put both his hands on his 
hips, puffed out his fat cheeks, and burst into loud 
laughter as soon as the couple had vanished behind the 
acacias. 

When once Serapion’s midriff was fairly tickled it 
was hard to reduce it to calm again, and he was still 
laughing when Klea appeared in front of his cell some 
few minutes after the departure of the Roman. He 
was about to receive his young friend with a cheerful 
greeting, but, glancing at her face, he cried anxiously; 

“You look as if you had met with a ghost; your 
lips are pale instead of red, and there are dark shades 
round your eyes. What has happened to you, child? 
Irene went with you to the procession, that I know. 
Have you had bad news of your parents? You shake 
your head. Come, child, perhaps you are thinking of 
some one more than you ought; how the color rises in 
your cheeks! Certainly handsome Publius, the Roman, 
must have looked into your eyes — a splendid youth is 
he — a fine young man — a capital good fellow — ” 

“Say no more on that subject,” Klea exclaimed, 
interrupting her friend and protector, and waving her 
hand in the air as if to cut off the other half of Sera- 
pion’s speech. “ I can hear nothing more about him.” 


THE SISTERS. 6j 

“ Has he addressed you unbecomingly ?” asked the 
recluse. 

“Yes!” said Klea, turning crimson, and with a ve- 
hemence quite foreign to her usual gentle demeanor, 
“yes, he persecutes me incessantly .with challenging 
looks.” 

“Only with looks?” said the anchorite. “But we 
may look even at the glorious sun and at the lovely 
flowers as much as we please, and they are not of- 
fended.” 

“The sun is too high and the soulless flowers too 
humble for a man to hurt them,” replied Klea. “ But 
the Roman is neither higher nor lower than I, the eye 
speaks as plain a language as the tongue, and what his 
eyes demand of me brings the blood to my cheeks and 
stirs my indignation even now when I only think of it.” 

“And that is why you avoid his gaze so carefully?” 

“Who told you that?” 

“Publius himself; and because he is wounded by 
your hard-heartedness he meant to quit Egypt; but I 
have persuaded him to remain, for if there is a mortal 
living from whom I expect any good for you and 
yours — ” 

“ It is certainly not he,” said Klea positively. “You 
are a man, and perhaps you now think that so long as 
you were young and free to wander about the world 
you would not have acted differently from him — it is a 
man’s privilege; but if you could look into my soul or 
feel with the heart of a woman, you would think differ- 
ently. Like the sand of the desert which is blown over 
the meadows and turns all the fresh verdure to a 
hideous brown — like a storm that transforms the blue 
mirror of the sea into a crisped chaos of black whirl- 


68 


THE SISTERS. 


pools and foaming ferment, this man’s imperious audac- 
ity has cruelly troubled my peace of heart. Four times 
his eyes pursued me in the processions; yesterday I still 
did not recognize my danger, but to-day — I must tell 
you, for you are like a father to me, and who else in the 
world can I confide in? — to-day I was able to avoid 
his gaze, and yet all through long endless hours of the 
festival I felt his eyes constantly seeking mine. I 
should have been certain I was under no delusion, even 
if Publius Scipio — but what business has his name on 
my lips ? — even if the Roman had not boasted to you 
of his attacks on a defenceless girl. And to think that 
you, you of all others, should have become his ally! 
But you would not, no indeed you would not, if you 
knew how I felt at the procession while I was looking 
down at the ground, and knew that his very look dese- 
crated me like the rain that washed all the blossoms off 
the young vine-shoots last year. It was just as if he 
were drawing a net round my heart — but, oh! what a 
net! It was as if the flax on a distaff had been set on 
fire, and the flames spun out into thin threads, and the 
meshes knotted of the fiery yarn. I felt every thread 
and knot burning into my soul, and could not cast it 
off nor even defend myself. Aye! you may look 
grieved and shake your head, but so it was, and the 
scars hurt me still with a pain I cannot utter.” 

“But Klea,” interrupted Serapion, “you are quite 
beside yourself — like one possessed. Go to the temple 
and pray, or, if that is of no avail, go to Asclepios or 
Anubis and have the demon cast out.” 

“I need none of your gods!” answered the girl in 
great agitation. “Oh! I wish you had left me to my 
fate, and that we had shared the lot of our parents, for 


THE SISTERS. 


69 


what threatens us here is more frightful than having to 
sift gold-dust in the scorching sun, or to crush quartz in 
mortars. I did not come to you to speak about the 
Roman, but to tell you what the high-priest had just 
disclosed to me since the procession ended.” 

“Well ?” asked Serapion eager and almost frightened, 
stretching out his neck to put his head near to the 
girl’s, and opening his eyes so wide that the loose skin 
below them almost disappeared. 

“First he told me,” replied Klea, “how meagrely 
the revenues of the temple are supplied — ” 

“That is quite true,” interrupted the anchorite, 
“ for Antiochus carried off the best part of its treasure ; 
and the crown, which always used to have money to 
spare for the sanctuaries of Egypt, now loads our 
estates with heavy tribute; but you, as it seems to me, 
were kept scantily enough, worse than meanly, for, as I 
know — since it passed through my hands — a sum was 
paid to the temple for your maintenance which would 
have sufficed to keep ten hungry sailors, not speak of 
two little pecking birds like you, and besides that you 
do hard service without any pay. Indeed it would be 
a more profitable speculation to steal a beggar’s rags 
than to rob you! Well, what did the high-priest 
want ?” 

“ He says that we have been fed and protected by 
the priesthood for five years, that now some danger 
threatens the temple on our account, and that we must 
either quit the sanctuary or else make up our minds to 
take the place of the twin-sisters Arsinoe and Doris who 
have hitherto been employed in singing the hymns of 
lamentation, as Isis and Nephthys, by the bier of the 
deceased god on the occasion of the festivals of the 


. *#. 


p 


7 ° 


THE SISTERS. 


dead, and in pouring out the libations with wailing and 
outcries when the bodies were brought into the temple 
to be blessed. These maidens, Asclepiodorus says, are 
now too old and ugly for these duties, but the temple is 
bound to maintain them all their lives. The funds of 
the temple are insufficient to support two more serving 
maidens besides them and us, and so Arsinoe and Doris 
are only to pour out the libations for the future, and we 
are to sing the laments, and do the wailing.” 

“But you are not twins!” cried Serapion. “And 
none but twins — so say the ordinances — may mourn for 
Osiris as Isis and Nephthys.” 

“They will make twins of us!” said Klea with a 
scornful turn of her lip. “ Irene’s hair is to be dyed 
black like mine, and the soles of her sandals are to be 
made thicker to make her as tall as I am.” 

“They would hardly succeed in making you smaller 
than you are, and it is easier to make light hair dark 
than dark hair light,” said Serapion with hardly sup- 
pressed rage. “And what answer did you give to these 
exceedingly original proposals?” 

“The only one I could very well give. I said no — 
but I declared myself ready, not from fear, but because 
we owe much to the temple, to perform any other ser- 
vice with Irene, only not this one.” 

“And Asclepiodorus?” 

“ He said nothing unkind to me, and preserved his 
calm and polite demeanor when I contradicted him, 
though he fixed his eyes on me several times in as- 
tonishment as if he had discovered in me something 
quite new and strange. At last he went on to remind 
me how much trouble the temple singing-master had 
taken with us, how well my low voice went with Irene’s 


THE SISTERS. 


7 1 


high one, how much applause we might gain by a fine 
performance of the hymns of lamentation, and how he 
would be willing, if we undertook the duties of the 
twin-sisters, to give us a better dwelling and more 
abundant food. I believe he has been trying to make 
us amenable by supplying us badly with food, just as 
falcons are trained by hunger. Perhaps I am doing 
him an injustice, but I feel only too much disposed to- 
day to think the worst of him and of the other fathers. 
Be that as it may; at any rate he made me no further 
answer when I persisted in my refusal, but dismissed 
me with an injunction to present myself before him 
again in three days’ time, and then to inform him defin- 
itively whether I would conform to his wishes, or if I 
proposed to leave the temple. I bowed and went 
towards the door, and was already on the threshold 
when he called me back once more, and said: ‘Re- 
member your parents and their fate!’ He spoke sol- 
emnly, almost threateningly, but he said no more and 
hastily turned his back on me. What could he mean 
to convey by this warning? Every day and every hour 
I think of my father and mother, and keep Irene in 
mind of them.” 

The recluse at these w r ords sat muttering thought- 
fully to himself for a few minutes with a discontented 
air; then he said gravely: 

“ Asclepiodorus meant more by his speech than you 
think. Every sentence with which he dismisses a re- 
fractory subordinate is a nut of which the shell must be 
cracked in order to get at the kernel. When he tells 
you to remember your parents and their sad fate, such 
words from his lips, and under the present circum- 
stances, can hardly mean anything else than this: that 


7 2 


THE SISTERS. 


you should not forget how easily your father’s fate 
might overtake you also, if once you withdrew your- 
selves from the protection of the temple. It was not 
for nothing that Asclepiodorus — as you yourself told 
me quite lately, not more than a week ago I am sure — 
reminded you how often those condemned to forced 
labor in the mines had their relations sent after them. 
Ah! child, the words of Asclepiodorus have a sinister 
meaning. The calmness and pride, with which you 
look at me make me fear for you, and yet, as you 
know, I am not one of the timid and tremulous. Cer- 
tainly what they propose to you is repulsive enough, 
but submit to it; it is to be hoped it will not be for 
long. Do it for my sake and for that of poor Irene, 
for though you might know how to assert your dignity 
and take care of yourself outside these walls in the 
rough and greedy world, little Irene never could. And 
besides, Klea, my sweetheart, we have now found some 
one, who makes your concerns his, and who is great 
and powerful — but oh! what are three days? To think 
of seeing you turned out — and then that you may be 
driven with a dissolute herd in a filthy boat down to 
the burning south, and dragged to work which kills 
first the soul and then the body! No, it is not possible! 
You will never let this happen to me — and to yourself 
and Irene; no, my darling, no, my pet, my sweetheart, 
you cannot, you will not do so. Are you not my 
children, my daughters, my only joy? and you, would 
you go away, and leave me alone in my cage, all be- 
cause you are so proud!” 

The strong man’s voice failed him, and heavy drops 
fell from his eyes one after another down his beard, and 
on to Klea’s arm, which he had grasped with both hands. 


THE SISTERS. 


73 


The girl’s eyes too were dim with a mist of warm 
tears when she saw her rough friend weeping, but she 
remained firm and said, as she tried to free her hand 
from his: 

“You know very well, father Serapion, that there is 
much to tie me to this temple; my sister, and you, and 
the door-keeper’s child, little Philo. It would be cruel, 
dreadful to have to leave you; but I would rather en- 
dure that and every other grief than allow Irene to 
take the place of Arsinoe or the black Doris as wail- 
ing woman. Think of that bright child, painted and 
kneeling at the foot of a bier and groaning and wailing 
in mock sorrow ! She would become a living lie in hu- 
man form, an object of loathing to herself, and to me 
— who stand in the place of a mother to her — from 
morning till night a martyrizing reproach! But what 
do I care about myself — I would disguise myself as the 
goddess without even making a wry face, and be led to 
the bier, and wail and groan so that every hearer would 
be cut to the heart, for my soul is already possessed by 
sorrow; it is like the eyes of a man, who has gone blind 
from the constant flow of salt tears. Perhaps singing 
the hymns of lamentation might relieve my soul, which 
is as full of sorrow as an overbrimming cup; but I 
would rather that a cloud should for ever darken the 
sun, that mists should hide every star from my eyes, 
and the air I breathe be poisoned by black smoke than 
disguise her identity, and darken her soul, or let her 
clear laugh be turned to shrieks of lamentation, and her 
fresh and childlike spirit be buried in gloomy mourning. 
Sooner will I go way with her and leave even you, to 
perish with my parents in misery and anguish than see 
that happen, or suffer it for a moment.” 


74 


THE SISTERS. 


As she spoke Serapion covered his face with his 
hands, and Klea, hastily turning away from him, with a 
deep sigh returned to her room. 

Irene was accustomed when she heard her step to 
hasten to meet her, but to-day no one came to welcome 
her, and in their room, which was beginning to be dark 
as twilight fell, she did not immediately catch sight of 
her sister, for she was sitting all in a heap in a corner 
of the room, her face hidden in her hands and weeping 
quietly. 

“What is the matter?” asked Klea, going tenderly 
up to the weeping child, over whom she bent, endeav- 
oring to raise her. 

“Leave me,” said Irene sobbing; she turned away 
from her sister with an impatient gesture, repelling her 
caress like a perverse child; and then, when Klea tried 
to soothe her by affectionately stroking her hair, she 
sprang up passionately exclaiming through her tears: 

“ I could not help crying — and, from this hour, I 
must always have to cry. The Corinthian Lysias spoke 
to me so kindly after the procession, and you — you 
don’t care about me at all and leave me alone all this 
time in this nasty dusty hole! I declare I will not en- 
dure it any longer, and if you try to keep me shut up, 
I will run away from this temple, for outside it is all 
bright and pleasant, and here it is dingy and horrid ! ” 


CHAPTER VII. 

In the very midst of the white wall with its bastions 
and ramparts, which formed the fortifications of Mem- 


THE SISTERS. 


75 


phis, stood the old palace of the kings, a stately struct- 
ure built of bricks, recently plastered, and with courts, 
corridors, chambers and halls without number, and ve- 
randa-like out-buildings of gayly-painted wood, and a 
magnificent pillared banqueting-hall in the Greek style. 
It was surrounded by verdurous gardens, and a whole 
host of laborers tended the flower-beds and shady alleys, 
the shrubs and the trees; kept the tanks clean and fed 
the fish in them; guarded the beast-garden, in which 
quadrupeds of every kind, from the heavy-treading 
elephant to the light-footed antelope, were to be seen, 
associated with birds innumerable of every country and 
climate. 

A light white vapor rose from the splendidly fitted 
bath-house, loud barkings resounded from the dog-ken- 
nels, and from the long array of open stables came the 
neighing of horses with the clatter and stamp of hoofs, 
and the rattle of harness and chains. A semicircular 
building of new construction adjoining the old palace 
was the theatre, and many large tents for the body- 
guard, for ambassadors and scribes, as well as others 
serving as banqueting-halls for the various court-officials, 
stood both within the garden and outside its enclosing 
walls. A large space leading from the city itself to the 
royal citadel was given up to the soldiers, and there, by 
the side of the shady court-yards, were the houses of 
the police-guard and the prisons. Other soldiers were 
quartered in tents close to the walls of the palace itself. 

The clatter of their arms and the words of command, 
given in Greek, by their captain, sounded out at this 
particular instant, and up into the part of the buildings 
occupied by the queen ; and her apartments were high 
up, for in summer time Cleopatra preferred to live in 


76 


THE SISTERS. 


airy tents, which stood among the broad-leaved trees of 
the south and whole groves of flowering shrubs, on 
the level roof of the palace, which was also lavishly 
decorated with marble statues. There was only one 
way of access to this retreat, which was fitted up with 
regal splendor; day and night it was fanned by currents 
of soft air, and no one could penetrate uninvited to 
disturb the queen’s retirement, for veteran guards 
watched at the foot of the broad stair that led to the 
roof, chosen from the Macedonian ‘‘Garde noble,” and 
owing as implicit obedience to Cleopatra as to the king 
himself. This select corps was now, at sunset, relieving 
guard, and the queen could hear the words spoken by 
the officers in command and the clatter of the shields 
against the swords as they rattled on the pavement, for 
she had come out of her tent into the open air, and 
stood gazing towards the west, where the glorious hues 
of the sinking sun flooded the bare, yellow limestone 
range of the Libyan hills, with their innumerable tombs 
and the separate groups of pyramids; while the won- 
derful coloring gradually tinged with rose-color the light 
silvery clouds that hovered in the clear sky over the 
valley of Memphis, and edged them as with a rim of 
living gold. 

The queen stepped out of her tent, accompanied by 
a young Greek girl — the fair Zoe, daughter of her mas- 
ter of the hunt Zenodotus, and Cleopatra’s favorite lady- 
in-waiting — but though she looked towards the west, 
she stood unmoved by the magic of the glorious scene 
before her; she screened her eyes with her hand to. 
shade them from the blinding rays, and said : 

“Where can Cornelius be staying! When w^ 
mounted our chariots before the temple he had vanished. 


THE SISTERS. 


77 


and as far as I can see the road in the quarters of So- 
kari and Serapis I cannot discover his vehicle, nor that 
of Eulaeus who was to accompany him. It is not very 
polite of him to go off in this way without taking leave; 
nay, I could call it ungrateful, since I had proposed to 
tell him on our way home all about my brother Euer- 
getes, who has arrived to-day with his friends. They 
are not yet acquainted, for Euergetes was living in 
Cyrene when Publius Cornelius Scipio landed in Alex- 
andria. Stay ! do you see a black shadow out there by 
the vineyard at Kakem; That is very likely he; but no 
— you are right, it is only some birds, flying in a close 
mass above the road. Can you see nothing more? 
No! and yet we both have sharp young eyes. I am 
very curious to know whether Publius Scipio will like 
Euergetes. There can hardly be two beings more un- 
like, and yet they have some very essential points in 
common.” 

“They are both men,” interrupted Zoe, looking at 
the queen as if she expected cordial assent to this pro- 
position. 

“ So they are,” said Cleopatra proudly. “ My broth- 
er is still so young that, if he were not a king’s son, 
he would hardly have outgrown the stage of boyhood, 
and would be a lad among other Epheboi,* and yet 
among the oldest there is hardly a man who is his 
superior in strength of will and determined energy. 
Already, before I married Philometor, he had clutched 
Alexandria and Cyrene, which by right should belong 
to my husband, who is the eldest of us three, and that 
was not very brotherly conduct — and indeed we had 
other grounds for being angry with him; but when I 

* Youths above 18 were so called. 


7 8 


THE SISTERS. 


saw him again for the first time after nine months of 
separation I was obliged to forget them all, and wel- 
come him as though he had done nothing but good to 
me and his brother — who is my husband, as is the cus- 
tom of the families of Pharaohs and the usage of our 
race. He is a young Titan, and no one would be aston- 
ished if he one day succeeded in piling Pelion upon 
Ossa. I know well enough how wild he can often be, 
how unbridled and recalcitrant beyond all bounds; but 
I can easily pardon him, for the same bold blood flows 
in my own veins, and at the root of all his excesses lies 
power, genuine and vigorous power. And this innate 
pith and power are just the very thing we most admire 
in men, for it is the one gift which the gods have dealt 
out to us with a less liberal hand than to men. Life 
indeed generally dams its overflowing current, but I 
doubt whether this will be the case with the stormy 
torrent of his energy; at any rate men such as he is 
rush swiftly onwards, and are strong to the end, which 
sooner or later is sure to overtake them ; and I infinitely 
prefer such a wild torrent to a shallow brook flowing 
over a plain, which hurts no one, and which in order to 
prolong its life loses itself in a misty bog. He, if any 
one, may be forgiven for his tumultuous career; for when 
he pleases my brother’s great qualities charm old and 
young alike, and are as conspicuous and as remarkable 
as his faults — nay, I will frankly say his crimes. And 
who in Greece or Egypt surpasses him in grasp and 
elevation of mind ? ” 

“You may well be proud of him,” replied Zoe. 
“Not even Publius Scipio himself can soar to the height 
reached by Euergetes.” 

“But, on the other hand, Euergetes is not gifted 


THE SISTERS. 


79 


with the steady, calm self-reliance of Cornelius. The 
man who should unite in one person the good qualities 
of those two, need yield the palm, as it seems to me, 
not even to a god! ” 

“Among us imperfect mortals he would indeed be 
the only perfect one,” replied Zoe. “But the gods 
could not endure the existence of a perfect man, for 
then they would have to undertake the undignified task 
of competing with one of their own creatures.” 

“Here, however, comes one whom no one can 
accuse!” cried the young queen, as she hastened to 
meet a richly dressed woman, older than herself, who 
came towards her leading her son, a pale child of two 
years old. She bent down to the little one, tenderly 
but with impetuous eagerness, and was about to clasp 
him in her arms, but the fragile child, which at first had 
smiled at her, was startled; he turned away from her 
and tried to hide his little face in the dress of his 
nurse — a lady of rank — to whom he clung with both 
hands. The queen threw herself on her knees before 
him, took hold of his shoulder, and partly by coaxing 
and partly by insistence strove to induce him to quit the 
sheltering gown and to turn to her; but although the 
lady, his wet-nurse, seconded her with kind words of 
encouragement, the terrified child began to cry, and 
resisted his mother’s caresses with more and more 
vehemence the more passionately she tried to attract 
and conciliate him. At last the nurse lifted him up, 
and was about to hand him to his mother, but the 
wilful little boy cried more than before, and throwing 
his arms convulsively round his nurse’s neck he broke 
into loud cries. 

In the midst of this rather unbecoming struggle of 


8o 


THE SISTERS. 


the mother against the child’s obstinacy, the clatter of 
wheels and of horses’ hoofs rang through the court-yard 
of the palace, and hardly had the sound reached the 
queen’s ears than she turned away from the screaming 
child, hurried to the parapet of the roof, and called out 
to Zoe: 

“ Publius Scipio is here; it is high time that I should 
dress for the banquet. Will that naughty child not 
listen to me at all? Take him away, Praxinoa, and 
understand distinctly that I am much dissatisfied with 
you. You estrange my own child from me to curry 
favor with the future king. That is base, or else it 
proves that you have no tact, and are incompetent for 
the office entrusted to you. The office of wet-nurse you 
duly fulfilled, but I shall now look out for another at- 
tendant for the boy. Do not answer me! no tears! I 
have had enough of that with the child’s screaming.” 

With these words, spoken loudly and passionately, 
she turned her back on Praxinoa — the wife of a dis- 
tinguished Macedonian noble, who stood as if petri- 
fied — and retired into her tent, where branched lamps 
had just been placed on little tables of elegant 
workmanship. Like all the other furniture in the 
queen’s dressing-tent these were made of gleaming ivory, 
standing out in fine relief from the tent-cloth which was 
sky-blue woven with silver lilies and ears of corn, and 
from the tiger-skins which covered all the cushions, 
while white woollen carpets, bordered with a waving 
scroll in blue, were spread on the ground. 

The queen threw herself on a seat in front of her 
dressing-table, and sat staring at herself in a mirror, as 
if she now saw her face and her abundant, reddish-fair 
hair for the first time; then she said, half turning to Zoe 


THE SISTERS. 


8l 


and half to her favorite Athenian waiting-maid, who 
stood behind her with her other women: 

“It was folly to dye my dark hair light; but now it 
may remain so, for Publius Scipio, who has no suspicion 
of our arts, thought this color pretty and uncommon, 
and never will know its origin. That Egyptian head- 
dress with the vulture’s head which the king likes best 
to see me in, the young Greek Lysias and the Roman 
too, call barbaric, and so every one must call it who is 
not interested in the Egyptians. But to-night we are 
only ourselves, so I will wear the chaplet of golden 
com with sapphire grapes. Do you think, Zoe, that 
with that I could wear the dress of transparent bombyx 
silk that came yesterday from Cos ? But no, I will not 
wear that, for it is ' too slight a tissue, it hides nothing 
and I am now too thin for it to become me. All the 
lines in my throat show, and my elbows are quite 
sharp — altogether I am much thinner. That comes of 
incessant worry, annoyance, and anxiety. How angry 
I was yesterday at the council, because my husband 
will always give way and agree and try to be pleasant; 
whenever a refusal is necessary I have to interfere, un- 
willing as I am to do it, and odious as it is to me 
always to have to stir up discontent, disappointment, 
and disaffection, to take things on myself and to be re- 
garded as hard and heartless in order that my husband 
may preserve undiminished the doubtful glory of being 
the gentlest and kindest of men and princes. My son’s 
having a will of his own leads to agitating scenes, but 
even that is better than that Philopator should rush 
into everybody’s arms. The first thing in bringing up 
a boy should be to teach him to say ‘no.’ I often say 
‘ yes’ myself when I should not, but I am a woman, and 


82 


THE SISTERS. 


yielding becomes us better than refusal — and what is 
there of greater importance to a woman than to do 
what becomes her best, and to seem beautiful? 

“ I will decide on this pale dress, and put over it the 
net-work of gold thread with sapphire knots; that will 
go well with the head-dress. Take care with your 
comb, Thais, you are hurting me! Now — I must not 
chatter any more. Zoe, give me the roll yonder; I 
must collect my thoughts a little before I go down to 
talk among men at the banquet. When we have just 
come from visiting the realm of death and of Serapis, 
and have been reminded of the immortality of the soul 
and of our lot in the next world, we are glad to read 
through what the most estimable of human thinkers 
has said concerning such things. Begin here, Zoe.” 

Cleopatra’s companion, thus addressed, signed to 
the unoccupied waiting-women to withdraw, seated 
herself on a low cushion opposite the queen, and began 
to read with an intelligent and practised intonation; the 
reading went on for some time uninterrupted by any 
sound but the clink of metal ornaments, the rustle of 
rich stuffs, the trickle of oils or perfumes as they were 
dropped into the crystal bowls, the short and whispered 
questions of the women who were attiring the queen, or 
Cleopatra’s no less low and rapid answers. 

All the waiting-women not immediately occupied 
about the queen’s person — perhaps twenty in all, young 
and old — ranged themselves along the sides of the great 
tent, either standing or sitting on the ground or on 
cushions, and awaiting the moment when it should be 
their turn to perform some service, as motionless as 
though spellbound by the mystical words of a magi- 
cian. They only made signs to each other with their 


THE STSTERS. 


83 


eyes and fingers, for they knew that the queen did not 
choose to be disturbed when she was being read to, and 
that she never hesitated to cast aside anything or any- 
body that crossed her wishes or inclinations, like a tight 
shoe or a broken lutestring. 

Her features were irregular and sharp, her cheek- 
bones too strongly developed, and the lips, behind 
which her teeth gleamed pearly white — though too 
widely set — were too full; still, so long as she exerted 
her great powers of concentration, and listened with 
flashing eyes, like those of a prophetess, and parted lips 
to the words of Plato, her face had worn an indescriba- 
ble glow of feeling, which seemed to have come upon 
her from a higher and better world, and she had looked 
far more beautiful than now when she was fully dressed, 
and when her women crowded round her — Zoe having 
laid aside the Plato — with loud and unmeasured 
flattery. 

Cleopatra delighted in being thus feted, and, in 
order to enjoy the adulation of a throng, she would 
always when dressing have a great number of women 
to attend her toilet; mirrors were held up to her on 
every side, a fold set right, and the jewelled straps of 
her sandals adjusted. 

One praised the abundance of her hair, another the 
slenderness of her form, the slimness of her ankles, and 
the smallness of her tiny hands and feet. One maiden 
remarked to another — but loud enough to be heard — 
on the brightness of her eyes which were clearer than 
the sapphires on her brow, while the Athenian waiting- 
woman, Thais, declared that Cleopatra had grown 
fatter, for her golden belt was less easy to clasp than it 
had been ten days previously. 


8 4 


THE SISTERS. 


The queen presently signed to Zoe, who threw a 
little silver ball into a bowl of the same metal, elabo- 
rately wrought and decorated, and in a few minutes the 
tramp of the body-guard was audible outside the door 
of the tent. 

Cleopatra went out, casting a rapid glance over the 
roof — now brightly illuminated with cressets and 
torches — and the white marble statues that gleamed out 
in relief against the dark clumps of shrubs; and then, 
without even looking at the tent w r here her children 
were asleep, she approached the litter, which had been 
brought up to the roof for her by the young Macedo- 
nian nobles. Zoe and Thais assisted her to mount into 
it, and her ladies, waiting-women, and others who had 
hurried out of the other tents, formed a row on each 
side of the way, and hailed their mistress with loud 
cries of admiration and delight as she passed by, lifted 
high above them all on the shoulders of her bearers. 
The diamonds in the handle of her feather-fan sparkled 
brightly as Cleopatra waved a gracious adieu to her 
women, an adieu which did not fail to remind them 
how infinitely beneath her were those she greeted. 
Every movement of her hand was full of regal pride, 
and her eyes, unveiled and untempered, were radiant 
with a young woman’s pleasure in a perfect toilet, with 
satisfaction in her own person, and with the anticipa- 
tion of the festive hours before her. 

The litter disappeared behind the door of the broad 
steps that led up to the roof, and Thais, sighing softly, 
said to herself, “If only for once I could ride through 
the air in just such a pretty shell of colored and shining 
mother-of-pearl, like a goddess! carried aloft by young 
men, and hailed and admired by all around me! High 


THE SISTERS. 


85 


up there the growing Selene floats calmly and silently 
by the tiny stars, and just so did she ride past in her 
purple robe with her torch-bearers and flames and 
lights — past us humble creatures, and between the tents 
to the banquet — and to what a banquet, and what 
guests ! Everything up here greets her with rejoicing, 
and I could almost fancy that among those still marble 
statues even the stern face of Zeno had parted its lips, 
and spoken flattering words to her. And yet poor little 
Zoe, and the fair-haired Lysippa, and the black-haired 
daughter of Demetrius, and even I, poor wretch, 
should be handsomer, far handsomer than she, if we 
could dress ourselves with fine clothes and jewels for 
which kings would sell their kingdoms; if we could 
play Aphrodite as she does, and ride off in a shell borne 
aloft on emerald-green glass to look as if it were float- 
ing on the waves; if dolphins set with pearls and tur- 
quoises served us for a footstool, and white ostrich- 
plumes floated over our heads, like the silvery clouds 
that float over Athens in the sky of a fine spring day. 
The transparent tissue that she dared not put on would 
well become me! If only that were true which Zoe was 
reading yesterday, that the souls of men were destined 
to visit the earth again and again in new forms ! Then 
perhaps mine might some day come into the world in 
that of a king’s child. I should not care to be a prince, 
so much is expected of him, but a princess indeed! 
That would be lovely !” 

These and such like were Thais’ dreams, while Zoe 
stood outside the tent of the royal children with her 
cousin, the chief-attendant of prince Philopator, carry- 
ing on an eager conversation in a low tone. The 
child’s nurse from time to time dried her eyes and 


86 


THE SISTERS. 


sobbed bitterly as she said : “ My own baby, my other 
children, my husband and our beautiful house in Alex- 
andria — I left them all to suckle and rear a prince. I 
have sacrificed happiness, freedom, and my nights’-sleep 
for the sake of the queen and of this child, and how am 
I repaid for all this? As if I were a lowborn wench 
instead of the daughter and wife of noble men; this 
woman, half a child still, scarcely yet nineteen, dismisses 
me from her service before you and all her ladies 
every ten days ! And why ? Because the ungoverned 
blood of her race flows in her son’s veins, and because 
he does not rush into the arms of a mother who for 
days does not ask for him at all, and never troubles 
herself about him but in some idle moment when she 
has gratified every other whim. Princes distribute 
favor or disgrace with justice only so long as they are 
children. The little one understands very well what I 
am to him, and sees what Cleopatra is. If I could find 
it in my heart to ill-use him in secret, this mother — who 
is not fit to be a mother — would soon have her way. 
Hard as it would be to me so soon to leave the poor 
feeble little child, who has grown as dear to my soul as 
my own — aye and closer, even closer, as I may well 
say — this time I will do it, even at the risk of Cleo- 
patra’s plunging us into ruin, my husband and me, as 
she has done to so many who have dared to contra- 
vene her will.” 

The wet-nurse wept aloud, but Zoe laid her hand on 
the distressed woman’s shoulder, and said soothingly : 

“ I know you have more to submit to from Cleo- 
patra’s humors than any of us all, but do not be over- 
hasty. To-morrow she will send you a handsome 
present, as she so often has done after being unkind; 


THE SISTERS. 


*7 


and though she vexes and hurts you again and again, 
she will try to make up for it again and again till, when 
this year is over, your attendance on the prince will be 
at an end, and you can go home again to your own 
family. We all have to practise patience; we live like 
people dwelling in a ruinous house with to-day a stone 
and to-morrow a beam threatening to fall upon our 
heads. If we each take calmly whatever befalls us our 
masters try to heal our wounds, but if we resist may the 
gods have mercy on us! for Cleopatra is like a strung 
bow, which sets the arrow flying as soon as a child, a 
mouse, a breath of air even touches it — like an over-full 
cup which brims over if a leaf, another drop, a single 
tear falls into it. We should, any one of us, soon be 
worn out by such a life, but she needs excitement, tur- 
moil and amusement at every hour. She comes home 
late from a feast, spends barely six hours in disturbed 
slumber, and has hardly rested so long as it takes a 
pebble to fall to the ground from a crane’s claw before 
we have to dress her again for another meal. From the 
council-board she goes to hear some learned discourse, 
from her books in the temple to sacrifice and prayer, 
from the sanctuary to the workshops of artists, from 
pictures and statues to the audience-chamber, from a 
reception of her subjects and of foreigners to her writ- 
ing-room, from answering letters to a procession and 
worship once more, from the sacred services back again 
to her dressing-tent, and there, while she is being attired 
she listens to me while I read the most profound works 
— and how she listens! not a word escapes her, and 
her memory retains whole sentences. Amid all this 
hurry and scurry her spirit must need be like a limb that 
is sore from violent exertion, and &at is painfully ten-. 


88 


THE SISTERS. 


der to every rough touch. We are to her neither more 
nor less than the wretched flies which we hit at when 
they trouble us, and may the gods be merciful to those 
on whom this queen’s hand may fall! Euergetes cleaves 
with the sword all that comes in his way. Cleopatra 
stabs with the dagger, and her hand wields the united 
power of her own might and of her yielding husband’s. 
Do not provoke her. Submit to what you cannot avert; 
just as I never complain when, if I make a mistake in 
reading, she snatches the book from my hand, or flings 
it at my feet. But I, of course, have only myself to 
fear for, and you have your husband and children as 
well.” 

Praxinoa bowed her head at these words in sad as- 
sent, and said: 

“Thank you for those words! I always think only 
from my heart, and you mostly from your head. You 
are right, this time again there is nothing for me to do 
but to be patient; but when I have fulfilled the duties 
here, which I undertook, and am at home again, I will 
offer a great sacrifice to Asclepias and Hygiea, like a 
person recovered from a severe illness; and one thing 
I know: that I would rather be a poor girl, grinding at 
a mill, than change with this rich and adored queen 
who, in order to enjoy her life to the utmost, carelessly 
and restlessly hurries past all that our mortal lot has 
best to offer. Terrible, hideous to me seems such an 
existence with no rest in it! and the heart of a mother 
which is so much occupied with other things that she 
cannot win the love of her child, which blossoms for 
every hired nurse, must be as waste as the desert! 
Rather would I endure anything — everything — with 
patience than be such a queen {” 


THE SISTERS. 


89 


CHAPTER VIII. 

“What! No one to come to meet me?” asked the 
queen, as she reached the foot of the last flight of por- 
phyry steps that led into the ante-chamber to the ban- 
queting-hall, and, looking round, with an ominous glance, 
at the chamberlains who had accompanied her, she 
clinched her small fist. “I arrive and find no one 
here ! ” 

The “No one” certainly was a figure of speech, 
since more than a hundred body-guards — Macedonians 
in rich array of arms — and an equal number of distin- 
guished court-officials were standing on the marble flags 
of the vast hall, which was surrounded by colonnades, 
while the star-spangled night-sky was all its roof ; and 
the court-attendants were all men of rank, dignified by 
the titles of fathers, brothers, relatives, friends and chief- 
friends of the king. 

These all received the queen with a many-voiced 
“Hail!” but not one of them seemed worthy of Cleo- 
patra’s notice. This crowd was less to her than the air 
we breathe in order to live — a mere obnoxious vapor, 
. a whirl of dust which the traveller would gladly avoid, 
but which he must nevertheless encounter in order to 
proceed on his way. 

The queen had expected that the few guests, invited 
by her selection and that of her brother Euergetes to 
the evening’s feast, would have welcomed her here at 
the steps; she thought they would have seen her — as 
she felt herselfrr-like a goddess borne aloft in her shell, 
7 


9 ° 


THE SISTERS. 


and that she might have exulted in the admiring aston- 
ishment of the Roman and of Lysias, the Corinthian: 
and now the most critical instant in the part she meant 
to play that evening had proved a failure, and it sug- 
gested itself to her mind that she might be borne back 
to her roof-tent, and be floated down once more when 
she was sure of the presence of the company. But there 
was one thing she dreaded more even than pain and 
remorse, and that was any appearance of the ridiculous ; 
so she only commanded the bearers to stand still, and 
while the master of the ceremonies, waiving his dignity, 
hurried off to announce to her husband that she was 
approaching, she signed to the nobles highest in rank to 
approach, that she might address a few gracious words 
to them, with distant amiability. Only a few however, 
for the doors of thyia wood leading into the banqueting- 
hall itself, presently opened, and the king with his friends 
came forward to meet Cleopatra. 

“How were we to expect you so early?” cried Phil- 
ometor to his wife. 

“Is it really still early?” asked the queen, “or have 
I only taken you by surprise, because you had forgotten 
to expect me?” 

“How unjust you are!” replied the king. “Must 
you now be told that, come as early as you will, you 
always come too late for my desires.” 

“But for ours,” cried Lysias, “neither too early nor 
too late, but at the very right time — like returning health 
and happiness, or the victor’s crown.” 

“Health as taking the place of sickness?” asked 
Cleopatra, and her eyes sparkled keenly and merrily. 

“I perfectly understand Lysias,” said Publius, inter- 
cepting the Greek, “Once, on the field of Mars, I was 


THE SISTERS. 


9 1 


flung from my horse, and had to lie for weeks on my 
couch, and I know that there is no more delightful sen- 
sation than that of feeling our departed strength return- 
ing as we recover. He means to say that in your pres- 
ence we must feel exceptionally well.” 

“Nay rather,” interrupted Lysias, “our queen 
seems to come to us like returning health, since so 
long as she was not in our midst we felt suffering 
and sick for longing. Thy presence, Cleopatra, is 
the most effectual remedy, and restores us to our 
lost health.” 

Cleopatra politely lowered her fan, as if in thanks, 
thus rapidly turning the stick of it in her hand, so as to 
make the diamonds that were set in it sparkle and flash. 
Then she turned to the friends, and said: 

“Your words are most amiable, and your different 
ways of expressing your meaning remind me of two 
gems set in a jewel, one of which sparkles because it is 
skilfully cut, and reflects every light from its mirror- 
like facets, while the other shines by its genuine and in- 
trinsic fire. The genuine and the true are one, and the 
Egyptians have but one word for both, and your kind 
speech, my Scipio — but I may surely venture to call you 
Publius — your kind speech, my Publius seems to me 
to be truer than that of your accomplished friend, 
which is better adapted to vainer ears than mine. 
Pray, give me your hand.” 

The shell in which she was sitting was gently low- 
ered, and, supported by Publius and her husband, the 
queen alighted and entered the banqueting-hall, accom- 
panied by her guests. 

As soon as the curtains were closed, and when Cleo- 
patra had exchanged a few whispered words with her 


9 2 


THE SISTERS. 


husband, she turned again to the Roman, who had just 
been joined by Eulseus, and said: 

“You have come from Athens, Publius, but you do 
not seem to have followed very closely * the courses of 
logic there, else how could it be that you, who regard 
health as the highest good — that you, who declared 
that you never felt so well as in my presence — should 
have quitted me so promptly after the procession, and 
in spite of our appointment? May I be allowed to ask 
what business — ” 

“Our noble friend,” answered Eulaeus, bowing low, 
but not allowing the queen to finish her speech, “would 
seem to have found some particular charm in the 
bearded recluses of Serapis, and to be seeking among 
them the key-stone of his studies at Athens.” 

“In that he is very right,” said the queen. “For 
from them he. can learn to direct his attention to that 
third division of our existence, concerning which least 
is taught in Athens — I mean the future — ” 

“That is in the hands of the gods,” replied the 
Roman. “It will come soon enough, and I did not 
discuss it with the anchorite. Euleeus may be informed 
that, on the contrary, everything I learned from that 
singular man in the Serapeum bore reference to the 
things of the past.” 

“But how can it be possible,” said Eulseus, “that 
any one to whom Cleopatra had offered her society 
should think so long of anything else than the beautiful 
present?” 

“You indeed have good reason,” retorted Publius 
quickly, “to enter the lists in behalf of the present, and 
never willingly to recall the past.” 

“It was full of anxiety and care,” replied Eulaeus 


THE SISTERS. 


93 


with perfect self-possession. “That my sovereign lady 
must know from her illustrious mother, and from her 
own experience; and she will also protect me from the 
undeserved hatred with which certain powerful enemies 
seem minded to pursue me. Permit me, your majesty, 
not to make my appearance at the banquet until later. 
This noble gentleman kept me waiting for hours in the 
Serapeum, and the proposals concerning the new build- 
ing in the temple of Isis at Philse must be drawn up and 
engrossed to-day, in order that they may be brought 
to-morrow before your royal husband in council and 
your illustrious brother Euergetes — ” 

“You have leave, interrupted Cleopatra.” 

As soon as Eulseus had disappeared, the queen 
went closer up to Publius, and said : 

“You are annoyed with this man — well, he is not 
pleasant, but at any rate he is useful and worthy. May 
I ask whether you only feel his personality repugnant 
to you, or whether actual circumstances have given rise 
to your aversion — nay, if I have judged rightly, to a 
very bitterly hostile feeling against him?” 

“Both,” replied Publius. “In this unmanly man, 
from the very first, I expected to find nothing good, and 
I now know that, if I erred at all, it was in his favor. 
To-morrow I will ask you to spare me an hour when I 
can communicate to your majesty something concerning 
him, but which is too repulsive and sad to be suitable 
for telling in an evening devoted to enjoyment. You 
need not be inquisitive, for they are matters that 
belong to the past, and which concern neither you nor 
me.” 

The high-steward and the cup-bearer here interrupted 
this conversation by calling them to table, and the royal 


94 


THE SISTERS. 


pair were soon reclining with their guests at the festal 
board. 

Oriental splendor and Greek elegance were com- 
bined in the decorations of the saloon of moderate size, 
in which Ptolemy Philometor was wont to prefer to 
hold high-festival with a few chosen friends. Like the 
great reception-hall and the men’s hall — with its twenty 
doors and lofty porphyry columns — in which the king’s 
guests assembled, it was lighted from above, since it 
was only at the sides that the walls — which had no 
windows — and a row of graceful alabaster columns with 
Corinthian acanthus-capitals supported a narrow roof; 
the centre of the hall was quite uncovered. At this 
hour, when it was blazing with hundreds of lights, the 
large opening, which by day admitted the bright sun- 
shine, was closed over by a gold net-work, decorated 
with stars and a crescent moon of rock-crystal, and the 
meshes were close enough to exclude the bats and moths 
which at night always fly to the light. But the illumi- 
nation of the king’s banqueting-hall made it almost as 
light as day, consisting of numerous lamps with many 
branches held up by lovely little figures of children in 
bronze and marble. Every joint was plainly visible in 
the mosaic of the pavement, which represented the re- 
ception of Heracles into Olympus, the feast of the gods, 
and the astonishment of the amazed hero at the splen- 
dor of the celestial banquet; and hundreds of torches 
were reflected in the walls of polished yellow marble, 
brought from Hippo Regius; these were inlaid by 
skilled artists with costly stones, such as lapis lazuli and 
malachite, crystals, blood-stone, jasper, agates and chal- 
cedony, to represent fruit-pieces and magnificent groups 
of game or of musical instruments; while the pilasters 


THE SISTERS. 


95 


were decorated with masks of the tragic and comic 
Muses, torches, thyrsi wreathed with ivy and vine, and 
pan-pipes. These were wrought in silver and gold, and 
set with costly marbles, and they stood out from the 
marble background like metal work on a leather shield, 
or the rich ornamentation on a sword-sheath. The fig- 
ures of a Dionysiac procession, forming the frieze, looked 
down upon the feasters — a fine relievo that had been 
designed and modelled for Ptolemy Soter by the sculp- 
tor Bryaxis, and then executed in ivory and gold. 

Everything that met the eye in this hall was splen- 
did, costly, and above all of a genial aspect, even before 
Cleopatra had come to the throne; and she — here as 
in her own apartments — had added the busts of the 
greatest Greek philosophers and poets, from Thales of 
Miletus down to Strato, who raised chance to fill the 
throne of God, and from Hesiod to Callimachus; she 
too had placed the tragic mask side by side with the 
comic, for at her table — she was wont to say — she de- 
sired to see no one who could not enjoy grave and wise 
discourse more than eating, drinking, and laughter. 

Instead of assisting at the banquet, as other ladies 
used, seated on a chair or at the foot of her husband’s 
couch, she reclined on a couch of her own, behind 
which stood busts of Sappho the poetess, and Aspasia 
the friend of Pericles. 

Though she made no pretensions to be regarded as 
a philosopher nor even as a poetess, she asserted her 
right to be considered a finished connoisseur in the arts 
of poetry and music; and if she preferred reclining to 
sitting how should she have done otherwise, since she 
was fully aware how well it became her to extend her- 
self in a picturesque attitude on her cushions, and to 


9 6 


THE SISTERS. 


support her head on her arm as it rested on the back of 
her couch; for that arm, though not strictly speaking 
beautiful, always displayed the finest specimens of Alex- 
andrian workmanship in gem-cutting and goldsmiths’ 
work. 

But, in fact, she selected a reclining posture partic- 
ularly for the sake of showing her feet; not a woman 
in Egypt or Greece had a smaller or more finely formed 
foot than she. For this reason her sandals were so 
made that when she stood or walked they protected 
only the soles of her feet, and her slender white toes 
with the roseate nails and their polished white half- 
moons were left uncovered. 

At the banquet she put off her shoes altogether, as 
the men did; hiding her feet at first however, and not 
displaying them till she thought the marks left on her 
tender skin by the straps of the sandals had completely 
disappeared. 

Eulaeus was the greatest admirer of these feet; not, 
as he averred, on account of their beauty, but because 
the play of the queen’s toes showed him exactly what 
was passing in her mind, when he was quite unable to 
detect what was agitating her soul in the expression of 
her mouth and eyes, well practised in the arts of dis- 
simulation. 

Nine couches, arranged three and three in a horse- 
shoe, invited the guests to repose, with their arms of 
ebony and cushions of dull olive-green brocade, on 
which a delicate pattern of gold and silver seemed just 
to have been breathed. 

The queen, shrugging her shoulders, and, as it would 
seem, by no means agreeably surprised at something, 
whispered to the chamberlain, who then indicated to 


THE SISTERS. 


97 


each guest the place he was to occupy. To the right 
of the central group reclined the queen, and her hus- 
band took his place to the left; the couch between the 
royal pair, destined for their brother Euergetes, re- 
mained unoccupied. 

On one of the three couches which formed the 
right-hand angle with those of the royal family, Publius 
found a place next to Cleopatra; opposite to him, and 
next the king, was Lysias the Corinthian. Two places 
next to him remained vacant, while on the side by the 
Roman reclined the brave and prudent Hierax, the 
friend of Ptolemy Euergetes and his most faithful fol- 
lower. 

While the servants strewed the couches with rose- 
leaves, sprinkled perfumed waters, and placed by the 
couch of each guest a small table — made of silver and 
of a slab of fine, reddish-brown porphyry, veined with 
white — the king addressed a pleasant greeting to each 
guest, apologizing for the smallness of the number. 

“Eulaeus,” he said, “has been forced to leave us on 
business, and our royal brother is still sitting over his 
books with Aristarchus, who came with him from Alex- 
andria; but he promised certainly to come.” 

“The fewer we are,” replied Lysias, bowing low, 
“the more honorable is the distinction of belonging to 
so limited a number of your majesty’s most select asso- 
ciates.” 

“I certainly think we have chosen the best from 
among the good,” said the queen. “But even the 
small number of friends I had invited must have seemed 
too large to my brother Euergetes, for he — who is ac- 
customed to command in other folks’ houses as he does 
in his own — forbid the chamberlain to invite our learned 


9 8 


THE SISTERS. 


friends — among whom Agatharchides, my brothers’ and 
my own most worthy tutor, is known to you — as well 
as our Jewish friends who were present yesterday at our 
table, and whom I had set down on my list. I am 
very well satisfied however, for I like the number of 
the Muses; and perhaps he desired to do you, Publius, 
particular honor, since we are assembled here in the 
Roman fashion. It is in your honor, and not in his, 
that we have no music this evening; you said that you 
did not particularly like it at a banquet. Euergetes 
himself plays the harp admirably. However, it is well 
that he is late in coming as usual, for the day after to- 
morrow is his birthday, and he is to spend it here with 
us and not in Alexandria; the priestly delegates as- 
sembled in the Bruchion are to come from thence to 
Memphis to wish him joy, and we must endeavor to 
get up some brilliant festival. You have no love for 
Eulaeus, Publius, but he is extremely skilled in such 
matters, and I hope he will presently return to give us 
his advice.” 

“For the morning we will have a grand proces- 
sion,” cried the king. “ Euergetes delights in a splendid 
spectacle, and I should be glad to show him how much 
pleasure his visit has given us.” 

The king’s fine features wore a most winning ex- 
pression as he spoke these words with heart-felt warmth, 
but his consort said thoughtfully: “Aye! if only we 
were in Alexandria — but here, among all the Egyptian 
people — ” 


THE SISTERS. 


99 


CHAPTER IX. 

A loud laugh re-echoing from the marble walls of 
the state-room interrupted the queen’s speech; at first 
she started, but then smiled with pleasure as she recog- 
nized her brother Euergetes, who, pushing aside the 
chamberlains, approached the company with an elderly 
Greek, who walked by his side. 

“By all the dwellers on Olympus! By the whole 
rabble of gods and beasts that live in the temples by 
the Nile!” cried the new-comer, again laughing so 1 
heartily that not only his fat cheeks but his whole im- 
mensely stout young frame swayed and shook. “ By 
your pretty little feet, Cleopatra, which could so easily 
be hidden, and yet are always to be seen — by all your 
gentle virtues, Philometor, I believe you are trying to 
outdo the great Philadelphus or our Syrian uncle Anti- 
ochus, and to get up a most unique procession; and in 
my honor! Just so! I myself will take a part in the 
wonderful affair, and my sturdy person shall represent 
Eros with his quiver and bow. Some ^Ethiopian dame 
must play the part of my mother Aphrodite; she will 
look the part to perfection, rising from the white sea- 
foam with her black skin. And what do you think of 
a Pallas with short woolly hair; of the Charities with 
broad, flat ^Ethiopian feet; and an Egyptian, with his 
shaven head mirroring the sun, as Phoebus Apollo ? ” 

With these words the young giant of twenty years 
threw himself on the vacant couch between his brother 
and sister, and, after bowing, not without dignity, to the 


IOO 


THE SISTERS. 


Roman, whom his brother named to him, he called one 
of the young Macedonians of noble birth who served 
at the feast as cup-bearers, had his cup filled once and 
again and yet a third time, drinking it off quickly and 
without setting it down; then he said in a loud tone, 
while he pushed his hands through his tossed, light 
brown hair, till it stood straight up in the air from his 
broad temples and high brow : 

“ I must make up for what you have had before I 
came. — Another cup-full Diocleides.” 

“Wild boy!” said Cleopatra, holding up her finger 
at him half in jest and half in grave warning. “ How 
strange you look!” 

“ Like Silenus without the goat’s hoofs,” answered 
Euergetes. “Hand me a mirror here, Diocleides; fol- 
low the eyes of her majesty the queen, and you will be 
sure to find one. There is the thing! And in fact the 
picture it shows me does not displease me. I see there 
a head on which besides the two crowns of Egypt a 
third might well find room, and in which there is so 
much brains that they might suffice to fill the skulls of 
four kings to the brim. I see two vulture’s eyes which 
are always keen of sight even when their owner is 
drunk, and that are in danger of no peril save from the 
flesh of these jolly cheeks, which, if they continue to in- 
crease so fast, must presently exclude the light, as the 
growth of the wood encloses a piece of money stuck 
into a rift in a tree — or as a shutter, when it is pushed 
to, closes up a window. With these hands and arms the 
fellow I see in the mirror there could, at need, choke a 
hippopotamus; the chain that is to deck this neck must 
be twice as long as that worn by a well-fed Egyptian 
priest. In this mirror I see a man, who is moulded out 


THE SISTERS. 


IOI 


of a sturdy clay, baked out of more unctuous and solid 
stuff than other folks; and if the fine creature there on 
the bright surface wears a transparent robe, what have 
you to say against it, Cleopatra? The Ptolemaic 
princes must protect the import trade of Alexandria, 
that fact was patent even to the great son of Lagus; 
and what would become of our commerce with Cos if I 
did not purchase the finest bombyx stuffs, since those 
who sell it make no profits out of you, the queen — and 
you cover yourself, like a vestal virgin, in garments of 
tapestry. Give me a wreath for my head — aye and 
another to that, and new wine in the cup! To the 
glory of Rome and to your health, Publius Cornelius 
Scipio, and to our last critical conjecture, my Aristar- 
chus — to subtle thinking and deep drinking!” 

“To deep thinking and subtle drinking!” retorted 
the person thus addressed, while he raised the cup, 
looked into the wine with his twinkling eyes and lifted 
it slowly to his nose — a long, well-formed and slightly 
aquiline nose — and to his thin lips. 

“Oho! Aristarchus,” exclaimed Euergetes, and he 
frowned. “You please me better when you clear up 
the meaning of your poets and historians than when 
you criticise the drinking-maxims of a king. Subtle 
drinking is mere sipping, and sipping I leave to the 
bitterns and other birds that live content among the 
reeds. Do you understand me ? Among reeds, I say — 
whether cut for writing, or no.” 

“ By subtle drinking,” replied the great critic with 
perfect indifference, as he pushed the thin, gray hair 
from his high brow with his slender hand. “ By subtle 
drinking I mean the drinking of choice wine, and did 
you ever taste anything more delicate than this juice of 


102 


THE SISTERS. 


the vines of Anthylla that your illustrious brother has 
set before us ? Your paradoxical axiom commends 
you at once as a powerful thinker and as the benevo- 
lent giver of the best of drinks.” 

“Happily turned,” exclaimed Cleopatra, clapping 
her hands, “you here see, Publius, a proof of the 
promptness of an Alexandrian tongue.” 

“Yes!” said Euergetes, “if men could go forth to 
battle with words instead of spears the masters of the 
Museum in Alexander’s city, with Aristarchus at their 
head, they might rout the united armies of Rome and 
Carthage in a couple of hours.” 

“ But we are not now in the battle-field but at a 
peaceful meal,” said the king, with suave amiability. 
“You did in fact overhear our secret Euergetes, and 
mocked at my faithful Egyptians, in whose place I 
would gladly set fair Greeks if only Alexandria still be- 
longed to me instead of to you. — However, a splendid 
procession shall not be wanting at your birthday fes- 
tival.” 

“And do you really still take pleasure in these 
eternal goose-step performances ?” asked Euergetes, 
stretching himself out on his couch, and folding his 
hands to support the back of his head. “ Sooner could 
I accustom myself to the delicate drinking of Aristar- 
chus than sit for hours watching these empty pageants. 
On two conditions only can I declare myself ready and 
willing to remain quiet, and patiently to dawdle 
through almost half a day, like an ape in a cage: First, 
if it will give our Roman friend Publius Cornelius 
Scipio any pleasure to witness such a performance — 
though, since our uncle Antiochus pillaged our wealth, 
and since we brothers shared Egypt between us, our 


THE SISTERS. 


I03 


processions are not to be even remotely compared to 
the triumphs of Roman victors — or, secondly, if I am 
allowed to take an active part in the affair.” 

“On my account, Sire,” replied Publius, “no pro- 
cession need be arranged, particularly not such a one 
as I should here be obliged to look on at.” 

“Well! I still enjoy such things,” said Cleopatra’s 
husband. “Well-arranged groups, and the populace 
pleased and excited are a sight I am never tired of.” 

“As for me,” cried Cleopatra, “I often turn hot and 
cold, and the tears even spring to my eyes, when the 
shouting is loudest. A great mass of men all uniting 
in a common emotion always has a great effect. A 
drop, a grain of sand, a block of stone are insignificant 
objects, but millions of them together, forming the sea, 
the desert or the pyramids, constitute a sublime whole. 
One man alone, shouting for joy, is like a madman 
escaped from an asylum, but when thousands of men 
rejoice together it must have a powerful effect on the 
coldest heart. How is it that you, Publius Scipio, in 
whom a strong will seems to me to have found a pecul- 
iarly happy development, can remain unmoved by a 
scene in which the great collective will of a people 
finds its utterance ?” 

“Is there then any expression of will, think you,” 
said the Roman, “in this popular rejoicing? It is just 
in such circumstances that each man becomes the invol- 
untary mimic and duplicate of his neighbor; while I 
love to make my own way, and to be independent of 
everything but the laws and duties laid upon me by the 
state to which I belong.” 

“And I,” said Euergetes, “from my childhood have 
always looked on at processions from the very best 


104 


THE SISTERS. 


places, and so it is that fortune punishes me now with 
indifference to them and to everything of the kind; 
while the poor miserable devil who can never catch 
sight of anything more than the nose or the tip of a hair 
or the broad back of those who take part in them, 
always longs for fresh pageants. As you hear, I need 
have no consideration for Publius Scipio in this, willing 
as I should be to do so. Now what would you say, 
Cleopatra, if I myself took a part in my procession — I 
say mine, since it is to be in my honor; that really 
would be for once something new and amusing.” 

“More new and amusing than creditable, I think,” 
replied Cleopatra dryly. 

“And yet even that ought to please you,” laughed 
Euergetes. “Since, besides being your brother, I am 
your rival, and we would sooner see our rivals lower 
themselves than rise.” 

“ Do not try to justify yourself by such words,” in- 
terrupted the king evasively, and with a tone of regret 
in his soft voice. “We love you truly; we are ready 
to yield you your dominion side by side with ours, and 
I beg you to avoid such speeches even in jest, so that 
bygones may be bygones.” 

“And,” added Cleopatra, “not to detract from your 
dignity as a king and your fame as a sage by any such 
fool’s pranks.” 

“ Madam teacher, do you know then what I had in 
my mind? I would appear as Alcibiades, followed by 
a train of flute-playing women, with Aristarchus to play 
the part of Socrates. I have often been told that he 
and I resemble each other — in many points, say the 
more sincere ; in every point, say the more polite of my 
friends.” 


THE SISTERS. 


*°S 

At these words Publius measured with his eye the 
frame of the royal young libertine, enveloped in trans- 
parent robes; and recalling to himself, as he gazed, a 
glorious statue of that favorite of the Athenians, which 
he had seen in the Ilissus, an ironical smile passed over 
his lips. It was not unobserved by Euergetes and it 
offended him, for there was nothing he liked better than 
to be compared to the nephew of Pericles; but he sup- 
pressed his annoyance, for Publius Cornelius Scipio was 
the nearest relative of the most influential men of Rome, 
and, though he himself wielded royal power, Rome 
exercised over him the sovereign will of a divinity. 

Cleopatra noticed what was passing in her brother’s 
mind, and in order to interrupt his further speech and 
to divert his mind to fresh thoughts, she said cheer- 
fully : 

“ Let us then give up the procession, and think of 
some other mode of celebrating your birthday. You, 
Lysias, must be experienced in such matters, for Publius 
tells me that you were the leader in all the games of 
Corinth. What can we devise to entertain Euergetes 
and ourselves?” 

The Corinthian looked for a moment into his cup, 
moving it slowly about on the marble slab of the little 
table at his side, between an oyster pasty and a dish of 
fresh asparagus; and then he said, glancing round to 
win the suffrages of the company: 

“At the great procession which took place under 
Ptolemy Philadelphus — Agatharchides gave me the 
description of it, written by the eye-witness Kallixenus, 
to read only yesterday — all kinds of scenes from the 
lives of the gods were represented before the people. 
Suppose we were to remain in this magnificent palace, 


io 6 


THE SISTERS. 


and to represent ourselves the beautiful groups which 
the great artists of the past have produced in painting 
or sculpture ; but let us choose those only that are least 
known.” 

“Splendid,” cried Cleopatra in great excitement, 
“who can be more like Heracles than my mighty 
brother there — the very son of Alcmene, as Lysippus has 
conceived and represented him ? Let us then represent 
the life of Heracles from grand models, and in every 
case assign to Euergetes the part of the hero.” 

“Oh! I will undertake it,” said the young king, feel- 
ing the mighty muscles of his breast and arms, “and 
you may give me great credit for assuming the part, for 
the demi-god who strangled the snakes was lacking in 
the most important point, and it was not without due 
consideration that Lysippus represented him with a 
small head on his mighty body; but I shall not have to 
say anything.” 

“ If I play Omphale will you sit at my feet ? ” asked 
Cleopatra. 

“ Who would not be willing to sit at those feet ? ” 
answered Euergetes. “Let us at once make further 
choice among the abundance of subjects offered to us; 
but, like Lysias, I would warn you against those that 
are too well-known.” 

“There are no doubt things commonplace to the 
eye as well as to the ear,” said Cleopatra. “ But what 
is recognized as good is commonly regarded as most 
beautiful.” 

“ Permit me,” said Lysias, “ to direct your attention 
to a piece of sculpture in marble of the noblest work- 
manship, which is both old and beautiful, and yet which 
may be known to few among you. It exists on the 


THE SISTERS. 


I07 

cistern of my father’s house at Corinth, and was ex- 
ecuted many centuries since by a great artist of the Pel- 
oponnesus. Publius was delighted with the work, and 
it is in fact beautiful beyond description. It is an ex- 
quisite representation of the marriage of Heracles and 
Hebe — of the hero, raised to divinity, with sempiternal 
youth. Will Your Majesty allow yourself to be led by 
Pallas Athene and your mother Alcmene to your nup- 
tials with Hebe?” 

“Why not?” said Euergetes. “Only the Hebe 
must be beautiful. But one thing must be considered; 
how are we to get the cistern from your father’s house 
at Corinth to this place by to-morrow or next day? 
Such a group cannot be posed from memory without 
the original to guide us; and though the story runs that 
the statue of Serapis flew from Sinope to Alexandria, 
and though there are magicians still at Memphis — ” 

“We shall not need them,” interrupted Publius, 
“ while I was staying as a guest in the house of my 
friend’s parents — which is altogether more magnificent 
than the old castle of King Gyges at Sardis — I had 
some gems engraved after this lovely group, as a wed- 
ding-present for my sister. They are extremely suc- 
cessful, and I have them with me in my tent.” 

“Have you a sister?” asked the queen, leaning over 
towards the Roman. “You must tell me all about 
her.” 

“She is a girl like all other girls,” replied Publius, 
looking down at the ground, for it was most repugnant 
to his feelings to speak of his sister in the presence of 
Euergetes. 

“And you are unjust like all other brothers,” said 
Cleopatra smiling, “and I must hear more about her, 


I 


THE SISTERS. 


108 

for” — and she whispered the words and looked mean- 
ingly at Publius — “all that concerns you must interest 
me.” 

During this dialogue the royal brothers had ad- 
dressed themselves to Lysias with questions as to the 
marriage of Heracles and Hebe, and all the company 
were attentive to the Greek as he went on: “This fine 
work does not represent the marriage properly speak- 
ing, but the moment when the bridegroom is led to the 
bride. The hero, with his club on his shoulder, and 
wearing the lion’s skin, is led by Pallas Athene, who, 
in performing this office of peace, has dropped her spear 
and carries her helmet in her hand; they are accom- 
panied by his mother Alcmene, and are advancing 
towards the bride’s train. This is headed by no less a 
personage than Apollo himself, singing the praises of 
Hymenseus to a lute. With him walks his sister Arte- 
mis and behind them the mother of Hebe, accompanied 
by Hermes, the messenger of the gods, as the envoy of 
Zeus. Then follows the principal group, which is one 
of the most lovely works of Greek art that I am ac- 
quainted with. Hebe comes forward to meet her bride- 
groom, gently led on by Aphrodite, the queen of love. 
Peitho, the goddess of persuasion, lays her hand on 
the bride’s arm, imperceptibly urging her forward and 
turning away her face; for what she had to say has 
been said, and she smiles to herself, for Hebe has not 
turned a deaf ear to her voice, and he who has once 
listened to Peitho must do what she desires.” 

“And Hebe?” asked Cleopatra. 

She casts down her eyes, but lifts up the arm on 
which the hand of Peitho rests with a warning move- 
ment of her fingers, in which she holds an unopened 


THE SISTERS. 


109 

rose, as though she would say; “Ah! let me be — T 
tremble at the man” — or ask: “Would it not be better 
that I should remain as I am and not yield to your 
temptations and to Aphrodite’s power?” “Oh! Hebe 
is exquisite, and you, O Queen! must represent her!” 

“ I !” exclaimed Cleopatra. “ But you said her eyes 
were cast down.” 

“That is from modesty and timidity, and her gait 
must also be bashful and maidenly. Her long robe 
falls to her feet in simple folds, while Peitho holds hers 
up saucily, between her forefinger and thumb, as if 
stealthily dancing with triumph over her recent victory. 
Indeed the figure of Peitho would become you admi- 
rably.” 

“ I think I will represent Peitho,” said the queen 
interrupting the Corinthian. “ Hebe is but a bud, an 
unopened blossom, while I am a mother, and I flatter 
myself I am something of a philosopher — ” 

“And can with justice assure yourself,” interrupted 
Aristarchus, “that with every charm of youth you also 
possess the characters attributed to Peitho, the goddess, 
who can work her spells not only on the heart but on 
the intellect also. The maiden bud is as sweet to look 
upon as the rose, but he who loves not merely color 
but perfume too — I mean refreshment, emotion and 
edification of spirit — must turn to the full-blown flower; 
as the rose-growers of lake Moeris twine only the buds of 
their favorite flower into wreaths and bunches, but can- 
not use them for extracting the oil of imperishable fra- 
grance; for that they need the expanded blossom. Rep- 
resent Peitho, my Queen! the goddess herself might 
be proud of such a representative.” 

“And if she were so indeed,” cried Cleopatra, “how 


I IO 


THE SISTERS. 


happy am I to hear such words from the lips of Aris- 
tarchus. It is settled — I play Peitho. My companion 
Zoe may take the part of Artemis, and her grave sister 
that of Pallas Athene. For the mother’s part we have 
several matrons to choose from; the eldest daughter of 
Epitropes appears to me fitted for the part of Aphro- 
dite; she is wonderfully lovely.” 

“Is she stupid too?” asked Euergetes. “That is 
also an attribute of the ever-smiling Cypria.” 

“Enough so, I think, for our purpose,” laughed 
Cleopatra. “ But where are we to find such a Hebe as 
you have described, Lysias? The daughter of Ahmes 
the Arabarch is a charming child.” 

“ But she is brown, as brown as this excellent wine, 
and too thoroughly Egyptian,” said the high-steward, 
who superintended the young Macedonian cup-bearers; 
he bowed deeply as he spoke, and modestly drew the 
queen’s attention to his own daughter, a maiden of six- 
teen. But Cleopatra objected, that she was much taller 
than herself, and that she would have to stand by the 
Hebe, and lay her hand on her arm. 

Other maidens were rejected on various grounds, 
and Euergetes had already proposed to send off a car- 
rier-pigeon to Alexandria to command that some fair 
Greek girl should be sent by an express quadriga to 
Memphis— where the dark Egyptian gods and men 
flourish, and are more numerous than the fair race of 
Greeks — when Lysias exclaimed: 

“ I saw to-day the very girl we want, a Hebe that 
might have stepped out from the marble group at my 
father’s, and have been endued with life and warmth and 
color by some god. Young, modest, rose and white, 
and just about as tall as Your Majesty. If you will 


THE SISTERS. 


Ill 


allow me, I will not tell you who she is, till after I have 
been to our tent to fetch the gems with the copies of 
the marble.” 

“You will find them in an ivory casket at the bot- 
tom of my clothes-chest,” said Publius; “here is the 
key.” 

“Make haste,” cried the queen, “for we are all curi- 
ous to hear where in Memphis you discovered your 
modest, rose and white Hebe.” 


CHAPTER X. 

An hour had slipped by with the royal party, since 
Lysias had quitted the company; the wine-cups had 
been filled and emptied many times; Eulaeus had re- 
joined the feasters, and the conversation had taken quite 
another turn, since the whole of the company were not 
now equally interested in the same subject; on the con- 
trary, the two kings were discussing with Aristarchus 
the manuscripts of former poets and of the works of the 
sages, scattered throughout Greece, and the ways and 
means of obtaining them or of acquiring exact tran- 
scripts of them for the library of the Museum. Hierax 
was telling Eulaeus of the last Dionysiac festival, and of 
the representation of the newest comedy in Alexandria, 
and Eulaeus assumed the appearance — not unsuccess- 
fully — of listening with both ears, interrupting him sev- 
eral times with intelligent questions, bearing directly on 
what he had said, while in fact his attention was exclu- 
sively directed to the queen, who had taken entire pos- 
session of the Roman Publius, telling him in a low tone 


112 


THE SISTERS. 


of her life — which was consuming her strength — of her 
unsatisfied affections, and her enthusiasm for Rome and 
for manly vigor. As she spoke her cheeks glowed and 
her eyes sparkled, for the more exclusively she kept the 
conversation in her own hands the better she thought 
she was being entertained; and Publius, who was noth- 
ing less than talkative, seldom interrupted her, only in- 
sinuating a flattering word now and then when it seemed 
appropriate; for he remembered the advice given him 
by the anchorite, and was desirous of winning the good 
graces of Cleopatra. 

In spite of his sharp ears Eulseus could understand 
but little of their whispered discourse, for King Euer- 
getes’ powerful voice sounded loud above the rest of 
the conversation ; but Eulseus was able swiftly to supply 
the links between the disjointed sentences, and to grasp 
the general sense, at any rate, of what she was saying. 
The queen avoided wine, but she had the power of in- 
toxicating herself, so to speak, with her own words, and 
now — just as her brothers and Aristarchus were at the 
height of their excited and eager question and answer — 
she raised her cup, touched it with her lips and handed 
it to Publius, while at the same time she took hold of 
his. 

The young Roman knew well enough all the sig- 
nificance of this hasty action; it was thus that in his 
own country a woman when in love was wont to ex- 
change her cup with her lover, or an apple already 
bitten by her white teeth. 

Publius was seized with a cold shudder — like a wan- 
derer who carelessly pursues his way gazing up at the 
moon and stars, and suddenly perceives an abyss yawn- 
ing at his feet. Recollections of his mother and of her 


THE SISTERS. 


113 


warnings against the seductive wiles of the Egyptian 
women, and particularly of this very woman, flashed 
through his mind like lightning; she was looking at 
him — not royally by any means, but with anxious and 
languishing gaze, and he would gladly have kept his 
eyes fixed on the ground, and have left the cup un- 
touched; but her eye held his fast as though fettering 
it with ties and bonds; and to put aside the cup seemed 
to the most fearless son of an unconquered nation a 
deed too bold to be attempted. Besides, how could 
he possibly repay this highest favor with an affront 
that no woman could ever forgive — least of all a Cleo- 
patra ? 

Aye, many a life’s happiness is tossed away and 
many a sin committed, because the favor of women 
is a grace that does honor to every man, and that flat- 
ters him even when it is bestowed by the unloved and 
unworthy. For flattery is a key to the heart, and when 
the heart stands half open the voice of the tempter is 
never wanting to whisper: “You will hurt her feelings 
if you refuse.” 

These were the deliberations which passed rapidly 
and confusedly through the young Roman’s agitated 
brain, as he took the queen’s cup and set his lips to the 
same spot that hers had touched. Then, while he 
emptied the cup in long draughts, he felt suddenly 
seized by a deep aversion to the over-talkative, over- 
dressed and capricious woman before him, who thus 
forced upon him favors for which he had not sued; and 
suddenly there rose before his soul the image, almost 
tangibly distinct, of the humble water-bearer; he saw 
Klea standing before him and looking far more queenly 
as, proud and repellent, she avoided his gaze, than the 


THE SISTERS. 


1 14. 

sovereign by his side could ever have done, though 
crowned with a diadem. 

Cleopatra rejoiced to mark his long slow draught, 
for she thought the Roman meant to imply by it that 
he could not cease to esteem himself happy in the favor 
she had shown him. She did not take her eyes off him, 
and observed with pleasure that his color changed to 
red and white; nor did she notice that Eulaeus was 
watching, with a twinkle in his eyes, all that was going 
on between her and Publius. At last the Roman set 
down the cup, and tried with some confusion to reply 
to her question as to how he had liked the flavor of the 
wine. 

“Very fine — excellent — ” at last he stammered out, 
but he was no longer looking at Cleopatra but at Eu- 
ergetes, who just then cried out loudly: 

“ I have thought over that passage for hours, I have 
given you all my reasons and have let you speak, Aris- 
tarchus, but I maintain my opinion, and whoever 
denies it does Homer an injustice; in this place siu 
must be read instead of ///.” 

Euergetes spoke so vehemently that his voice out- 
shouted all the other guests; Publius however snatched 
at his words, to escape the necessity for feigning senti- 
ments he could not feel; so he said, addressing himself 
half to the speaker and half to Cleopatra: 

“ Of what use can it be to decide whether it is one 
or the other — in or siu. I find many things justifiable 
in other men that are foreign to my own nature, but I 
never could understand how an energetic and vigorous 
man, a prudent sovereign and stalwart drinker — like 
you, Euergetes — can sit for hours over flimsy papyrus- 
rolls, and rack his brains to decide whether this 


THE SISTERS. 


“5 

or that in Homer should be read in one way or 
another.” 

“You exercise yourself in other things,” replied 
Euergetes. “I consider that part of me which lies 
within this golden fillet as the best that I have, and I 
exercise my wits on the minutest and subtlest questions 
just as I would try the strength of my arms against the 
sturdiest athletes. I flung five into the sand the last 
time I did so, and they quake now when they see me 
enter the gymnasium of Timagetes. There would be 
no strength in the world if there were no obstacles, and 
no man would know that he was strong if he could 
meet with no resistance to overcome. I for my part 
seek such exercises as suit my idiosyncrasy, and if they 
are not to your taste I cannot help it. If you were to 
set these excellently dressed crayfish before a fine horse 
he would disdain them, and could not understand how 
foolish men could find anything palatable that tasted 
so salt. Salt, in fact, is not suited to all creatures! 
Men born far from the sea do not relish oysters, while 
1, being a gourmand, even prefer to open them myself 
so that they may be perfectly fresh, and mix their liquor 
with my wine.” 

“ I do not like any very salt dish, and am glad to 
leave the opening of all marine produce to my ser- 
vants,” answered Publius. “ Thereby I save both time 
and unnecessary trouble.” 

“Oh! I know!” cried Euergetes. “You keep Greek 
slaves, who must even read and write for you. Pray 
is there a market where I may purchase men, who, after 
a night of carousing, will bear our headache for us? 
By the shores of the Tiber you love many things better 
than learning.” 


THE SISTERS. 


1 16 


“And thereby,” added Aristarchus, “deprive your- 
selves of the noblest and subtlest of pleasures, for the 
purest enjoyment is ever that which we earn at the cost 
of some pains and effort.” 

“ But all that you earn by this kind of labor,” re- 
turned Publius, “is petty and unimportant. It puts me 
in mind of a man who removes a block of stone in the 
sweat of his brow only to lay it on a sparrow’s feather 
in order that it may not be carried away by the wind.” 

“And what is great — and what is small?” asked 
Aristarchus. “Very opposite opinions on that subject 
may be equally true, since it depends solely on us and 
our feelings how things appear to us — whether cold or 
warm, lovely or repulsive — and when Protagoras says 
that ‘ man is the measure of all things,’ that is the most 
acceptable of all the maxims of the Sophists ; moreover 
the smallest matter — as you will fully appreciate — ac- 
quires an importance all the greater in proportion as the 
thing is perfect, of which it forms a part. If you slit 
the ear of a cart-horse, what does it signify ? but sup- 
pose the same thing were to happen to a thoroughbred 
horse, a charger that you ride on to battle! 

“A wrinkle or a tooth more or less in the face of a 
peasant woman matters little, or not at all, but it is 
quite different in a celebrated beauty. If you scrawl 
all over the face with which the coarse finger of the 
potter has decorated a water-jar, the injury to the 
wretched pot is but small, but if you scratch, only with 
a needle’s point, that gem with the portraits of Ptolemy 
and Arsinoe, which clasps Cleopatra’s robe round her 
fair throat, the richest queen will grieve as though she 
had suffered some serious loss. 

“Now, what is there more perfect or more worthy 


THE SISTERS. 


XI 7 

to be treasured than the noblest works of great thinkers 
and great poets. 

“To preserve them from injury, to purge them from 
the errors which, in the course of time, may have 
spotted their immaculate purity, this is our task; and if 
we do indeed raise blocks of stone it is not to weight a 
sparrow’s feather that it may not be blown away, but 
to seal the door which guards a precious possession, 
and to preserve a gem from injury. 

“The chatter of girls at a fountain is worth nothing 
but to be wafted away on the winds, and to be remem- 
bered by none; but can a son ever deem that one sin- 
gle word is unimportant which his dying father has 
bequeathed to him as a clue to his path in life? If you 
yourself were such a son, and your ear had not per- 
fectly caught the parting counsels of the dying — how 
many talents of silver would you not pay to be able to 
supply the missing words? And what are immortal 
works of the great poets and thinkers but such sacred 
words of warning addressed, not to a single individual, 
but to all that are not barbarians, however many they 
may be. They will elevate, instruct, and delight our de- 
scendants a thousand years hence as they do us at this 
day, and they, if they are not degenerate and ungrate- 
ful will be thankful to those who have devoted the best 
powers of their life to completing and restoring all that 
our mighty forefathers have said, as it must have origi- 
nally stood before it was mutilated, and spoiled by care- 
lessness and folly. 

“He who, like King Euergetes, puts one syllable in 
Homer right, in place of a wrong one, in my opinion 
has done a service to succeeding generations — aye and 
a great service.” 


THE SISTERS. 


Il8 


“What you say,” replied Publius, “sounds convinc- 
ing, but it is still not perfectly clear to me; no doubt 
because I learned at an early age to prefer deeds to 
words. I find it more easy to reconcile my mind to 
your painful and minute labors when I reflect that to 
you is entrusted the restoration of the literal tenor of 
laws, whose full meaning might be lost by a verbal 
error; or that wrong information might be laid before 
me as to one single transaction in the life of a friend or 
of a blood-relation, and it might lie with me to clear 
him of mistakes and misinterpretation.” 

“And what are the works of the great singers of the 
deeds of the heroes — of the writers of past history, but 
the lives of our fathers related either with veracious 
exactness or with poetic adornments?” cried Aristar- 
chus. “ It is to these that my king and companion in 
study devotes himself with particular zeal.” 

“When he is neither drinking, nor raving, nor gov- 
erning, nor wasting his time in sacrificing and proces- 
sions,” interpolated Euergetes. “If I had not been a 
king perhaps I might have been an Aristarchus; as it 
is I am but half a king — since half of my kingdom be- 
longs to you, Philometor — and but half a student; for 
when am I to find perfect quiet for thinking and writ- 
ing? Everything, everything in me is by halves, for I, 
if the scale were to turn in my favor” — and here he 
struck his chest and his forehead, “ I should be twice 
the man I am. I am my whole real self nowhere but 
at high festivals, when the wine sparkles in the cup, and 
bright eyes flash from beneath the brows of the flute- 
players of Alexandria or Cyrene — sometimes too per- 
haps in council when the risk is great, or when there is 
something vast and portentous to be done from which 


THE SISTERS. 


II!) 


my brother and you others, all of you, would shrink — 
nay perhaps even the Roman. Aye! so it is — and you 
will learn to know it.” 

Euergetes had roared rather than spoken the last 
words; his cheeks were flushed, his eyes rolled, while 
he took from his head both the garland of flowers and 
the golden fillet, and once more pushed his fingers 
through his hair. 

His sister covered her ears with her hands, and said: 
“You positively hurt me! As no one is contradicting 
you, and you, as a man of culture, are not accustomed 
to add force to your assertions, like the Scythians, by 
speaking in a loud tone, you would do well to save 
your metallic voice for the further speech with which 
it is to be hoped you will presently favor us. We have 
had to bow more than once already to the strength of 
which you boast — but now, at a merry feast, we will 
not think of that, but rather continue the conversation 
which entertained us, and which had begun so well. 
This eager defence of the interests which most delight 
the best of the Hellenes in Alexandria may perhaps 
result in infusing into the mind of our friend Publius 
vScipio — and through him into that of many young 
Romans — a proper esteem for a line of intellectual 
effort which he could not have condemned had he not 
failed to understand it perfectly. 

“Very often some striking poetical turn given to a 
subject makes it, all at once, clear to our comprehension, 
even when long and learned disquisitions have failed; 
and I am acquainted with such an one, written by an 
anonymous author, and which may please you — and 
you too, Aristarchus. It epitomizes very happily the 
subject of our discussion. The lines run as follows : 


i 20 


THE SISTERS. 


** Behold, the puny Child of Man 
Sits by Time’s boundless sea. 
And gathers in his feeble hand 
Drops of Eternity. 


“ He overhears some broken words 
Of whispered mystery — 

He writes them in a tiny book 
And calls it ‘ History ! ’ 


“We owe these verses to an accomplished friend; 
another has amplified the idea by adding the two that 
fopow : 


“ If indeed the puny Child of Man 

Had not gathered drops from that wide sea. 
Those small deeds that fill his little span 
Had been lost in dumb Eternity. 

“ Feeble is his hand, and yet it dare 

Seize some drops of that perennial stream ; 
As they fall they catch a transient gleam — 
Lo ! Eternity is mirrored there ! 


“ What are we all but puny children ? And those 
of us who gather up the drops surely deserve our es- 
teem no less than those who spend their lives on the 
shore of that great ocean in mere play and strife — ” 
“And love,” threw in Eulseus in a low voice, as he 
glanced towards Publius. 

“Your poet’s verses are pretty and appropriate,” 
Aristarchus now said, “and I am very happy to find 
myself compared to the children who catch the falling 
drops. There was a time — which came to an end, alas! 
with the great Aristotle — when there were men among 
the Greeks, who fed the ocean of which you speak with 
new tributaries; for the gods had bestowed on them 
the power of opening new sources, like the magician 


THE SISTERS. 


I 2 I 


Moses, of whom Onias, the Jew, was lately telling us, 
and whose history I have read in the sacred books of 
the Hebrews. He, it is true — Moses I mean — only 
struck water from the rock for the use of the body, 
while to our philosophers and poets we owe inexhaust- 
ible springs to refresh the mind and soul. The time 
is now past which gave birth to such divine and crea- 
tive spirits; as your majesties’ forefathers recognized full 
well when they founded the Museum of Alexandria and 
the Library, of which I am one of the guardians, and 
which I may boast of having completed with your gra- 
cious assistance. When Ptolemy Soter first created 
the Museum in Alexandria the works of the greatest 
period could receive no additions in the form of modern 
writings of the highest class; but he set us — children 
of man, gathering the drops — the task of collecting and 
of sifting them, of eliminating errors in them — and I 
think we have proved ourselves equal to this task. 

“It has been said that it is no less difficult to keep 
a fortune than to deserve it; and so perhaps we, who are 
merely ‘keepers’ may nevertheless make some credit — 
all the more because we have been able to arrange the 
wealth we found under hand, to work it profitably, to 
apply it well, to elucidate it, and to make it available. 
When anything new is created by one of our circle we 
always link it on to the old; and in many departments 
we have indeed even succeeded in soaring above the 
ancients, particularly in that of the experimental sci- 
ences. The sublime intelligence of our forefathers com- 
manded a broad horizon — our narrower vision sees 
more clearly the objects that lie close to us. We have 
discovered the sure path for all intellectual labor, the true 
scientific method; and an observant study of things as 


I 22 


THE SISTERS. 


they are, succeeds better with us than it did with our 
predecessors. Hence it follows that in the provinces 
of the natural sciences, in mathematics, astronomy, me- 
chanics and geography the sages of our college have 
produced works of unsurpassed merit. Indeed the in- 
dustry of my associates — ” 

“Is very great,” cried Euergetes. “But they stir 
up such a dust that all free-thought is choked, and be- 
cause they value quantity above all things in the results 
they obtain, they neglect to sift what is great from what 
is small; and so Publius Scipio and others like him, who 
shrug their shoulders over the labors of the learned, 
find cause enough to laugh in their faces. Out of 
every four of you I should dearly like to set three to 
some handicraft, and I shall do it too, one of these 
days — I shall do it, and turn them and all their misera- 
ble paraphernalia out of the Museum, and out of my 
capital. They may take refuge with you, Philometor, 
you who marvel at everything you cannot do yourself, 
who are always delighted to possess what I reject, and 
to make much of those whom I condemn — and Cleo- 
patra I dare say will play the harp, in honor of their 
entering Memphis.” 

“I dare say! ” answered the queen, laughing bitterly. 
“ Still, it is to be expected that your wrath may fall even 
on worthy men. Until then I will practise my music, 
and study the treatise on harmony that you have begun 
w r riting. You are giving us proof to-day of how far you 
have succeeded in attaining unison in your own soul.” 

“I like you in this mood!” cried Euergetes. “I 
love you, sister, when you are like this! It ill becomes 
the eagle’s brood to coo like the dove, and you have 
sharp talons though you hide them never so well under 


THE SISTERS. 


I2 3 


your soft feathers. It is true that I am writing a trea- 
tise on harmony, and I am doing it with delight; still it 
is one of those phenomena which, though accessible 
to our perception, are imperishable, for no god even 
could discover it entire and unmixed in the world of 
realities. Where is harmony to be found in the strug- 
gles and rapacious strife of the life of the Cosmos? 
And our human existence is but the diminished reflec 
tion of that process of birth and decease, of evolution 
and annihilation, which is going on in all that is per, 
ceptible to our senses; now gradually and invisibly 
now violently and convulsively, but never harmoni- 
ously. 

“ Harmony is at home only in the ideal world-- 
harmony which is unknown even among the gods— * 
harmony, whom I may know, and yet may never com 
prehend — whom I love, and may never possess — whom 
I long for, and who flies from me. 

“I am as one that thirsteth, and harmony as the 
remote, unattainable well — I am as one swimming in a 
wide sea, and she is the land which recedes as I deem 
myself near to it. 

“Who will tell me the name of the country where 
she rules as queen, undisturbed and untroubled? And 
which is most in earnest in his pursuit of the fair one: 
He who lies sleeping in her arms, or he who is con- 
sumed by his passion for her ? 

“I am seeking what you deem that you possess.— 
Possess ! — 

“ Look round you on the world and on life — look 
round, as I do, on this hall of which you are so proud ! 
It was built by a Greek; but, because the simple 
melody of beautiful forms in perfect concord no longer 


124 


THE SISTERS. 


satisfies you, and your taste requires the eastern mag- 
nificence in which you were born, because this flatters 
your vanity and reminds you, each time you gaze upon 
it, that you are wealthy and powerful — you commanded 
your architect to set aside simple grandeur, and to 
build this gaudy monstrosity, which is no more like the 
banqueting-hall of a Pericles than I or you, Cleopatra, 
in all our finery, are like the simply clad gods and god- 
desses of Phidias. I mean not to offend you, Cleopatra, 
but I must say this; I am writing now on the subject 
of harmony, and perhaps I shall afterwards treat of 
justice, truth, virtue; although I know full well that 
they are pure abstractions which occur neither in nature 
nor in human life, and which in my dealings I wholly 
set aside; nevertheless they seem to me worthy of in- 
vestigation, like any other delusion, if by resolving it 
we may arrive at conditional truth. It is because one 
man is afraid of another that these restraints — justice, 
truth, and what else you will — have received these high- 
sounding names, have been stamped as characteristics 
of the gods, and placed under the protection of the 
immortals; nay, our anxious care has gone so far that 
it has been taught as a doctrine that it is beautiful and 
good to cloud our free enjoyment of existence for the 
sake of these illusions. Think of Antisthenes and his 
disciples, the dog-like Cynics — think of the fools shut 
up in the temple of Serapis! Nothing is beautiful but 
what is free, and he only is not free who is forever striv- 
ing to check his inclinations — for the most part in vain 
— in order to live, as feeble cowards deem virtuously, 
justly and truthfully. 

“ One animal eats another when he has succeeded 
in capturing it, either in open fight or by cunning and 


THE SISTERS. 


I2 5 


treachery; the climbing plant strangles the tree, the 
desert-sand chokes the meadows, stars fall from heaven, 
and earthquakes swallow up cities. You believe in the 
gods — and so do I after my own fashion — and if they 
have so ordered the course of this life in every class of 
existence that the strong triumph over the weak, why 
should not I use my strength, why let it be fettered by 
those much-belauded soporifics which our prudent an- 
cestors concocted to cool the hot blood of such men as 
I, and to paralyze our sinewy fists. 

“Euergetes — the well-doer — I was named at my 
birth; but if men choose to call me Kakergetes — the 
evil-doer — I do not mind it, since what you call good 
I call narrow and petty, and what you call evil is the 
free and unbridled exercise of power. I would be any- 
thing rather than lazy and idle, for everything in nature 
is active and busy; and as, with Aristippus, I hold 
pleasure to be the highest good, I would fain earn the 
name of having enjoyed more than all other men; in 
the first place in my mind, but no less in my body 
which I admire and cherish.” 

During this speech many signs of disagreement had 
found expression, and Publius, who for the first time in 
his life heard such vicious sentiments spoken, followed 
the words of the headstrong youth with consternation 
and surprise. He felt himself no match for this over- 
bearing spirit, trained too in all the arts of argument 
and eloquence ; but he could not leave all he had heard 
uncontroverted, and so, as Euergetes paused in order 
to empty his refilled cup, he began : 

“ If we were all to act on your principles, in a few 
centuries, it seems to me, there would be no one left to 
subscribe to them; for the earth would be depopulated; 


26 


THE SISTERS. 


and the manuscripts, in which you are so careful to sub- 
stitute sin for iu, would be used by strong-handed 
mothers, if any were left, to boil the pot for their chil- 
dren — in this country of yours where there is no wood 
to burn. Just now you were boasting of your resem- 
blance to Alcibiades, but that very gift which distin- 
guished him, and made him dear to the Athenians — I 
mean his beauty — is hardly possible in connection with 
your doctrines, which would turn men into ravening 
beasts. He who would be beautiful must before all 
things be able to control himself and to be moderate — 
as I learnt in Rome before I ever saw Athens, and have 
remembered well. A Titan may perhaps have thought 
and talked as you do, but an Alcibiades — hardly!” 

At these words the blood flew to Euergetes’ face; 
but he suppressed the keen and insulting reply that rose 
to his lips, and this little victory over his wrathful im- 
pulse was made the more easy as Lysias, at this moment, 
rejoined the feasters; he excused himself for his long 
absence, and then laid before Cleopatra and her hus- 
band the gems belonging to Publius. 

They were warmly admired; even Euergetes was 
not grudging of his praise, and each of the company 
admitted that he had rarely seen anything more beautiful 
and graceful than the bashful Hebe with downcast 
eyes, and the goddess of persuasion with her hand 
resting on the bride’s arm. 

“Yes, I will take the part of Peitho,” said Cleo- 
patra with decision. 

“And I that of Heracles,” cried Euergetes. 

“But who is the fair one,” asked King Philometor 
of Lysias, “whom you have in your eye, as fulfilling 
this incomparably lovely conception of Hebe? While 


THE SISTERS. 


I27 


you were away I recalled to memory the aspect of 
every woman and girl who frequents our festivals, but 
only to reject them all, one after the other.” 

“The fair girl whom I mean,” replied Lysias, “has 
never entered this or any other palace; indeed I am 
almost afraid of being too bold in suggesting to our 
illustrious queen so humble a child as fit to stand beside 
her, though only in sport.” 

“ I shall even have to touch her arm with my 
hand!” said the queen anxiously, and she drew up her 
fingers as if she had to touch some unclean thing. 
“ If you mean a flower-seller or a flute-player or some- 
thing of that kind — ” 

“ How could I dare to suggest anything so im- 
proper?” Lysias hastily interposed. “ The girl of whom 
I speak may be sixteen years old; she is innocence 
itself incarnate, and she looks like a bud ready to open 
perhaps in the morning dew that may succeed this very 
night, but which as yet is still enfolded in its cup. She 
is of Greek race, about as tall as you are, Cleopatra; 
she has wonderful gazelle-like eyes, her little head is 
covered by a mass of abundant brown hair, when she 
smiles she has delicious dimples in her cheeks — and she 
will be sure to smile when such a Peitho speaks to her!” 

“ You are rousing our curiosity,” cried Philometor. 
“ In what garden, pray, does this blossom grow?” 

“ And how is it,” added Cleopatra, “ that my hus- 
band has not discovered it long since, and transplanted 
it to our palace.” 

“Probably,” answered Lysias, “ because he who pos- 
sesses Cleopatra, the fairest rose of Egypt, regards the 
violets by the roadside as too insignificant to be worth 
glancing at. Besides, the hedge that fences round my 


128 


THE SISTERS. 


bud grows in a gloomy spot; it is difficult of access and 
suspiciously watched. To be brief: our Hebe is a 
water-bearer in the temple of Serapis, and her name 
is Irene.” 


CHAPTER XI. 

Lysias was one of those men from whose lips noth- 
ing ever sounds as if it were meant seriously. His 
statement that he regarded a serving girl from the tem- 
ple of Serapis as fit to personate Hebe, was spoken as 
naturally and simply as if he were telling a tale for 
children ; but his words produced an effect on his hearers 
like the sound of waters rushing into a leaky shijS. 

Publius had turned perfectly white, and it was not 
till his friend had uttered the name of Irene that he in 
some degree recovered his composure ; Philometor had 
struck his cup on the table, and called out in much ex- 
citement: 

“ A water-bearer of Serapis to play Hebe in a gay 
festal performance! Do you conceive it possible, Cleo- 
patra?” 

“ Impossible — it is absolutely out of the question,” 
replied the queen, decidedly. Euergetes, who also had 
opened his eyes wide at the Corinthian’s proposition, 
sat for a long time gazing into his cup in silence; while 
his brother and sister continued to express their surprise 
and disapprobation and to speak of the respect and con- 
sideration which even kings must pay to the priests and 
servants of Serapis. 

At length, once more lifting his wreath and crown, 


THE SISTERS. 


129 


he raised his curls with both hands, and said, quite 
calmly and decisively; 

“We must have a Hebe, and must take her where 
we find her. If you hesitate to allow the girl to be 
fetched it shall be done by my orders. The priests of 
Serapis are for the most part Greeks, and the high -priest 
is a Hellene. He will not trouble himself much about 
a half-grown-up girl if he can thereby oblige you or me. 
He knows as well as the rest of us that ‘one hand 
washes the other’! The only question now is — for I 
would rather avoid all woman’s outcries — whether the 
girl will come willingly or unwillingly if we send for her. 
What do you think, Lysias ?” 

“ I believe she would sooner get out of prison to-day 
than to-morrow,” replied Lysias. “Irene is a light- 
hearted creature, and laughs as clearly and merrily as a 
child at play — and besides that they starve her in her 
cage.” 

“Then I will have her fetched to-morrow!” said 
Euergetes. 

“ But,” interrupted Cleopatra, “ Asclepiodorus must 
obey us and not you; and we, my husband and I — ” 

“You cannot spoil sport with the priests,” laughed 
Euergetes. “If they were Egyptians, then indeed! 
They are not to be taken in their nests without getting 
pecked; but here, as I have said, we have to deal with 
Greeks. What have you to fear from them? For 
aught I care you may leave our Hebe where she is, but 
I was once much pleased with these representations, 
and to-morrow morning, as soon as I have slept, I shall 
return to Alexandria, if you do not carry them into 
effect, and so deprive me, Heracles, of the bride chosen 
for me by the gods. I have said what I have said, and 


THE SISTERS. 


130 

I am not given to changing my mind. Besides, it is 
time that we should show ourselves to our friends feast- 
ing here in the next room. They are already merry, 
and it must be getting late.” 

With these words Euergetes rose from his couch, 
and beckoned to Hierax and a chamberlain, who ar- 
ranged the folds of his transparent robe, while Philo- 
metor and Cleopatra whispered together, shrugging 
their shoulders and shaking their heads; and Publius, 
pressing his hand on the Corinthian’s wrist, said in his 
ear: “You will not give them any help if you value 
our friendship; we will leave as soon as we can do so 
with propriety.” 

Euergetes did not like to be kept waiting. He was 
already going towards the door, when Cleopatra called 
him back, and said pleasantly, but with gentle reproach- 
fulness : 

“You know that we are willing to follow the 
Egyptian custom of carrying out as far as possible 
the wishes of a friend and brother for his birthday 
festival; but for that very reason it is not right in 
you to try to force us into a proceeding which we 
refuse with difficulty, and yet cannot carry out with- 
out exposing ourselves to the most unpleasant conse- 
quences. We beg you to make some other demand 
on us, and we will certainly grant it if it lies in our 
power.” 

The young colossus responded to his sister’s appeal 
with a loud shout of laughter, waved his arm with a 
flourish of his hand expressive of haughty indifference ; 
and then he exclaimed: 

“The only thing I really had a fancy for out of all 
your possessions you are not willing to concede, and 


THE SISTERS. 


131 

so I must abide by my word. You find me my Hebe 
— or I go on my way.” 

Again Cleopatra and her husband exchanged a few 
muttered words and rapid glances, Euergetes watching 
them the while ; his legs straddled apart, his huge body 
bent forward, and his hands resting on his hips. His 
attitude expressed so much arrogance and puerile, de- 
fiant, unruly audacity, that Cleopatra found it difficult 
to suppress an exclamation of disgust before she spoke. 

“We are indeed brethren,” she said, “and so, for 
the sake of the peace which has been restored and pre- 
served with so much difficulty, we give in. The best 
way will be to request Asclepiodorus — ” 

But here Euergetes interrupted the queen, clapping 
his hands loudly and laughing: 

“That is right, sister! only find me my Hebe! 
How you do it is your affair, and is all the same to me. 
To-morrow evening we will have a rehearsal, and the 
day after we will give a representation of which our 
grandchildren shall repeat the fame. Nor shall a brill- 
iant audience be lacking, for my complimentary visitors 
with their priestly splendor and array of arms will, it 
is to be hoped, arrive punctually. Come, my lords, we 
will go, and see what there is good to drink or to listen 
to at the table in the next room.” 

The doors were opened; music, loud talking, the 
jingle of cups, and the noise of laughter sounded 
through them into the room where the princes had 
been supping, and all the king’s guests followed Euer- 
getes, with the exception of Eulaeus. Cleopatra allowed 
them to depart without speaking a word; only to Pub- 
lius she said: “Till we meet again!” but she detained 
the Corinthian, saying: 


i3 2 


THE SISTERS. 


“You, Lysias, are the cause of this provoking busi- 
ness. Try now to repair the mischief by bringing the 
girl to us. Do not hesitate! 1 will guard her, protect 
her with the greatest care, rely upon me.” 

“She is a modest maiden,” replied Lysias, “and 
will not accompany me willingly, I am sure. When I 
proposed her for the part of Hebe I certainly supposed 
that a word from you, the king and queen, would suf- 
fice to induce the head of the temple to entrust her to 
you for a few hours of harmless amusement. Pardon 
me if I too quit you now; I have the key of my friend’s 
chest still in my possession, and must restore it to 
him.” 

“Shall we have her carried off secretly?” asked 
Cleopatra of her husband, when the Corinthian had 
followed the other guests. 

“ Only let us have no scandal, no violence,” cried 
Philometor anxiously. “The best way would be for 
me to write to Asclepiodorus, and beg him in a friendly 
manner to entrust this girl — Ismene or Irene, or what- 
ever the ill-starred child’s name is — for a few days to 
you, Cleopatra, for your pleasure. I can offer him a 
prospect of an addition to the gift of land I made to- 
day, and which fell far short of his demands.” 

“ Let me entreat your majesty,” interposed Eulaeus, 
who was now alone with the royal couple, “let me en- 
treat you not to make any great promises on this occa- 
sion, for the moment you do so Asclepiodorus will at- 
tribute an importance to your desire — ” 

“ Which it is far from having, and must not seem to 
have,” interrupted the queen. “It is preposterous to 
waste so many words about a miserable creature, a 
water-carrying girl, and to go through so much disturb- 


THE SISTERS. 


133 


ance — but how are we to put an end to it all ? What 
is your advice, Eulaeus?” 

“ I thank you for that enquiry, noble princess,” re- 
plied Eulaeus. “My lord, the king, in my opinion, 
should have the girl carried off, but not with any vio- 
lence, nor by a man — whom she would hardly follow 
so immediately as is necessary — but by a woman. 

“I am thinking of the old Egyptian tale of ‘The 
Two Brothers,’ which you are acquainted with. The 
Pharaoh desired to possess himself of the wife of the 
younger one, who lived on the Mount of Cedars, and 
he sent armed men to fetch her away; but only one of 
them came back to him, for Batau had slain all the 
others. Then a woman was sent with splendid orna- 
ments, such as women love, and the fair one followed 
her unresistingly to the palace. 

“We may spare the ambassadors, and send only the 
woman; your lady in waiting, Zoe, will execute this 
commission admirably. Who can blame us in any way 
if a girl, who loves finery, runs away from her keep- 
ers ?” 

“ But all the world will see her as Hebe,” sighed 
Philometor, “and proclaim us — the sovereign protec- 
tors of the worship of Serapis — as violators of the 
temple, if Asclepiodorus leads the cry. No, no, the 
high-priest must first be courteously applied to. In 
the case of his raising any difficulties, but not other- 
wise, shall Zoe make the attempt.” 

“ So be it then,” said the queen, as if it were her 
part to express her confirmation of her husband’s prop- 
osition. 

“Let your lady accompany me,” begged Eulaeus, 
“ and prefer your request to Asclepiodorus. While J 


134 


THE SISTERS. 


am speaking with the high-priest, Zoe can at any rate 
win over the girl, and whatever we do must be done 
to-morrow, or the Roman will be beforehand with us. 
I know that he has cast an eye on Irene, who is in fact 
most lovely. He gives her flowers, feeds his pet bird 
with pheasants and peaches and other sweetmeats, lets 
himself be lured into the Serapeum by his lady-love as 
often as possible, stays there whole hours, and piously 
follows the processions, in order to present the violets 
with which you graciously honored him by giving them 
to his fair one — who no doubt would rather wear royal, 
flowers than any others — ” 

“Liar!” cried the queen, interrupting the courtier 
in such violent excitement and such ungoverned rage, 
so completely beside herself, that her husband drew 
back startled. 

“You are a slanderer! a base calumniator! The 
Roman attacks you with naked weapons, but you slink 
in the dark, like a scorpion, and try to sting your enemy 
in the heel. Apelles, the painter, warns us — the grand- 
children of Lagus — against folks of your kidney in the 
picture he painted against Antiphilus; as I look at you 
I am reminded of his Demon of Calumny. The same 
6pite and malice gleam in your eyes as in hers, and the 
same fury and greed for some victim, fire your flushed 
face! How you would rejoice if the youth whom 
Apelles has represented Calumny as clutching by the 
hair, could but be Publius! and if only the lean and 
hollow-eyed form of Envy, and the loathsome female 
figures of Cunning and Treachery would come to your 
aid as they have to hers! But I remember too the 
steadfast and truthful glance of the boy she has flung 
to the ground, his arms thrown up to heaven, appealing 


THE SISTERS. 


*35 


for protection to the goddess and the king — and though 
Publius Scipio is man enough to guard himself against 
open attack, I will protect him against being surprised 
from an ambush! Leave this room! Go, I say, and 
you shall see how we punish slanderers!” 

At these words Eulaeus flung himself at the queen’s 
feet, but she, breathing hurriedly and with quivering 
nostrils, looked away over his head as if she did not 
even see him, till her husband came towards her, and 
said in a voice of most winning gentleness: 

“ Do not condemn him unheard, and raise him from 
his abasement. At least give him the opportunity of 
softening your indignation by bringing the water-bearer 
here without angering Asclepiodorus. Carry out this 
affair well, Eulaeus, and you will find in me an advo- 
cate with Cleopatra.” 

The king pointed to the door, and Eulaeus retired, 
bowing deeply and finding his way out backwards. 
Philometer, now alone with his wife, said with mild re- 
proach : 

“ How could you abandon yourself to such unmeas- 
ured anger? So faithful and prudent a servant — and 
one of the few still living of those to whom our mother 
was attached — cannot be sent away like a mere clumsy 
attendant. Besides, what is the great crime he has 
committed ? Is it a slander which need rouse you to 
such fury when a cautious old man says in all innocence 
of a young one — a man belonging to a world which 
knows nothing of the mysterious sanctity of Serapis — 
that he has taken a fancy to a girl, who is admired by 
all who see her, that he seeks her out, and gives her 
flowers — ” 

“ Gives her flowers ? ” exclaimed Cleopatra, breaking 


136 


THE SISTERS. 


out afresh. “No, he is accused of persecuting a maid- 
en attached to Serapis — to Serapis I say. But it is 
simply false, and you would be as angry as I am if you 
were ever capable of feeling manly indignation, and if 
you did not want to make use of Eulseus for many 
things, some of which I know, and others — which you 
choose to conceal from me. Only let him fetch the 
girl; and when once we have her here, and if I find 
that the Roman’s indictment against Eulaeus — which I 
will hear to-morrow morning — is well founded, you shall 
see that I have manly vigor enough for both of us. 
Come away now; they are waiting for us in the other 
room.” 

The queen gave a call, and chamberlains and ser- 
vants hurried in ; her shell-shaped litter was brought, 
and in a few minutes, with her husband by her side, she 
was borne into the great peristyle where the grandees 
of the court, the commanders of the troops, the most 
prominent of the officials of the Egyptian provinces, 
many artists and savants, and the ambassadors from 
foreign powers, were reclining on long rows of couches, 
and talking over their wine, the feast itself being 
ended. 

The Greeks and the dark-hued Egyptians were 
about equally represented in this motley assembly; but 
among them, and particularly among the learned and 
the fighting men, there were also several Israelites and 
Syrians. 

The royal pair were received by the company with 
acclamations and marks of respect; Cleopatra smiled 
as sweetly as ever, and waved her fan graciously as she 
descended from her litter; still she vouchsafed not the 
slightest attention to any one present, for she was seek- 


THE SISTERS. 


137 


ing Publius, at first among those who were nearest to 
the couch prepared for her, and then among the other 
Hellenes, the Egyptians, the Jews, the ambassadors — 
still she found him not, and when at last she enquired 
for the Roman of the chief chamberlain at her side, the 
official was sent for who had charge of the foreign 
envoys. This was an officer of very high rank, whose 
duty it was to provide for the representatives of foreign 
powers, and he was now near at hand, for he had long 
been waiting for an opportunity to offer to the queen a 
message of leave-taking from Publius Cornelius Scipio, 
and to tell her from him, that he had retired to his tent 
because a letter had come to him from Rome. 

“ Is that true ?” asked the queen letting her feather 
fan droop, and looking her interlocutor severely in the 
face. 

“The trireme Proteus , coming from Brundisium, 
entered the harbor of Eunostus only yesterday,” he 
replied; “and an hour ago a mounted messenger 
brought the letter. Nor was it an ordinary letter but a 
despatch from the Senate— -I know the form and seal.” 

“And Lysias, the Corinthian?” 

“He accompanied the Roman.” 

“Has the Senate written to him too?” asked the 
queen annoyed, and ironically. She turned her back 
on the officer without any kind of courtesy, and turning 
again to the chamberlain she went on, in incisive tones, 
as if she were presiding at a trial : 

“King Euergetes sits there among the Egyptians 
near the envoys from the temples of the Upper 
Country. He looks as it he were giving them a dis- 
course, and they hang on his lips. What is he saying, 

and what does all this mean ?” 

10 


THE SISTERS. 


138 


“Before you came in, he was sitting with the Syr- 
ians and Jews, and telling them what the merchants 
and scribes, whom he sent to the South, have reported 
of the lands lying near the lakes through which the 
Nile is said to flow. He thinks that new sources of 
wealth have revealed themselves not far from the head 
of the sacred river which can hardly flow in from the 
ocean, as the ancients supposed.” 

“And now?” asked Cleopatra. “What information 
is he giving to the Egyptians?” 

The chamberlain hastened towards Euergetes’ 
couch, and soon returned to the queen — who mean- 
while had exchanged a few friendly words with Onias, 
the Hebrew commander — and informed her in a low 
tone that the king was interpreting a passage from the 
Timaeus of Plato, in which Solon celebrates the lofty 
wisdom of the priests of Sais; he was speaking with 
much spirit, and the Egyptians received it with loud 
applause. 

Cleopatra’s countenance darkened more and more, 
but she concealed it behind her fan, signed to Philo- 
metor to approach, and whispered to him : 

“Keep near Euergetes; he has a great deal too 
much to say to the Egyptians. He is extremely anx- 
ious to stand well with them, and those whom he really 
desires to please are completely entrapped by his por- 
tentous amiability. He has spoiled my evening, and I 
shall leave you to yourselves.” 

“Till to-morrow, then.” 

“I shall hear the Roman’s complaint up on my roof- 
terrace; there is always a fresh air up there. If you 
wish to be present I will send for you, but first I would 
speak to him alone, for he has received letters from the 


THE SISTERS. 1 39 

Senate which may contain something of importance. 
So, till to-morrow.” 


CHAPTER XII. 

While, in the vast peristyle, many a cup was still 
being emptied, and the carousers were growing merrier 
and noisier — while Cleopatra was abusing the maids 
and ladies who were undressing her for their clumsiness 
and unreadiness, because every touch hurt her, and 
every pin taken out of her dress pricked her — the Ro- 
man and his friend Lysias walked up and down in their 
tent in violent agitation. 

“Speak lower,” said the Greek, “for the very griffins 
woven into the tissue of these thin walls seem to me to 
be lying in wait, and listening. 

“I certainly was not mistaken. When I came to 
fetch the gems I saw a light gleaming in the doorway 
as I approached it; but the intruder must have been 
warned, for just as I got up to the lantern in front of the 
servants’ tent, it disappeared, and the torch which usu- 
ally burns outside our tent had not been lighted at all ; 
but a beam of light fell on the road, and a man’s figure 
slipped across in a black robe sprinkled with gold orna- 
ments which I saw glitter as the pale light of the lan- 
tern fell upon them — just as a slimy, biack newt glides 
through a pool. I have good eyes as you know, and 
I will give one of them at this moment, if I am mis- 
taken, and if the cat that stole into our tent was not 
Eulaeus.” 


140 


THE SISTERS. 


“ And why did you not have him caught ? ” asked 
Publius, provoked. 

“ Because our tent was pitch-dark,” replied Lysias, 
and that stout villain is as slippery as a badger with the 
dogs at his heels. Owls, bats and such vermin which 
seek their prey by night are all hideous to me, and this 
Eulseus, who grins like a hyaena when he laughs — ” 

“This Eulaeus,” said Publius, interrupting his friend, 
“shall learn to know me, and know too by experience 
that a man comes to no good, who picks a quarrel with 
my father’s son.” 

“ But, in the first instance, you treated him with 
disdain and discourtesy,” said Lysias, “and that was 
not wise.” 

“Wise, and wise, and wise!” the Roman broke out. 
“ He is a scoundrel. It makes no difference to me so 
long as he keeps out of my way; but when, as has 
been the case for several days now, he constantly sticks 
close to me to spy upon me, and treats me as if he were 
my equal, I will show him that he is mistaken. He 
has no reason to complain of my want of frankness; he 
knows my opinion of him, and that I am quite inclined 
to give him a thrashing. If I wanted to meet his cun- 
ning with cunning I should get the worst of it, for he 
is far superior to me in intrigue. I shall fare better 
with him by my own unconcealed mode of fighting, 
which ‘is new to him and puzzles him; besides it is 
better suited to my own nature, and more consonant to 
me than any other. He is not only sly, but is keen- 
witted, and he has at once connected the complaint 
which I have threatened to bring against him with the 
manuscript which Serapion, the recluse, gave me in his 
presence. There it lies — only look. 


THE SISTERS. 


141 

“Now, being not merely crafty, but a daring rascal 
too — two qualities which generally contradict each 
other, for no one who is really prudent lives in disobe- 
dience to the laws — he has secretly untied the strings 
which fastened it. But, you see, he had not time 
enough to tie the roll up again! He has read it all or 
in part, and I wish him joy of the picture of himself 
he will Have found painted there. The anchorite 
wields a powerful pen, and paints with a firm outline 
and strongly marked coloring. If he has read the roll 
to the end it will spare me the trouble of explaining to 
him what I purpose to charge him with; if you dis- 
turbed him too soon I shall have to be more explicit in 
my accusation. Be that as it may, it is all the same to 
me.” 

“Nay, certainly not,” cried Lysias, “for in the first 
case Eulaeus will have time to meditate his lies, and 
bribe witnesses for his defence. If any one entrusted 
me with such important papers — and if it had not been 
you who neglected to do it — I would carefully seal or 
lock them up. Where have you put the despatch from 
the Senate which the messenger brought you just now?” 

“That is locked up in this casket,” replied Publius, 
moving his hand to press it more closely over his robe, 
under which he had carefully hidden it. 

“May I not know what it contains?” asked the 
Corinthian. 

“No, there is not time for that now, for we must 
first, and at once, consider what can be done to repair 
the last mischief which you have done. Is it not a dis- 
graceful thing that you should betray the sweet creature 
whose childlike embarrassment charmed us this morn- 
ing — of whom you yourself said, as we came home, that 


142 


THE SISTERS. 


she reminded you of your lovely sister — that you should 
betray her, I say, into the power of the wildest of all 
the profligates I ever met — to this monster, whose 
pleasures are the unspeakable, whose boast is vice? 
What has Euergetes — ” 

“By great Poseidon!” cried Lysias, eagerly inter- 
rupting his friend. “ I never once thought of this second 
Alcibiades when I mentioned her. What can the man- 
ager of a performance do, but all in his power to secure 
the applause of the audience? and, by my honor! it 
was for my own sake that I wanted to bring Irene into 
the palace — I am mad with love for her — she has un- 
done me.” 

“Aye!’ like Callista, and Phryne, and the flute- 
player Stephanion,” interrupted the Roman, shrugging 
his shoulders. 

“ How should it be different ? ” asked the Corinthian, 
looking at his friend in astonishment. “ Eros has many 
arrows in his quiver; one strikes deeply, another less 
deeply; and I believe that the wound I have received 
to-day will ache for many a week if I have to give up 
this child, who is even more charming than the much- 
admired Hebe on our cistern.” 

“ I advise you however to accustom yourself to the 
idea, and the sooner the better,” said Publius gravely, 
as he set himself with his arms crossed, directly in front 
of the Greek. “What would you feel inclined to do to 
me if I took a fancy to lure your pretty sister — whom 
Irene, I repeat it, is said to resemble — to tempt her 
with base cunning from your parents’ house?” 

“ I protest against any such comparison,” cried the 
Corinthian very positively, and more genuinely exasper- 
ated than the Roman had ever seen him. 


THE SISTERS 


143 


“You are angry without cause,” replied Publius 
calmly and gravely. “Your sister is a charming girl, 
the ornament of your illustrious house, and yet I dare 
compare the humble Irene — ” 

“With her! do you mean to say ? ” Lysias shouted 
again. “That is a poor return for the hospitality which 
was shown to you by my parents and of which you 
formally sang the praises. I am a good-natured fellow 
and will submit to more from you than from any other 
man— I know not why, myself; — but in a matter like 
this I do not understand a joke! My sister is the only 
daughter of the noblest and richest house in Corinth 
and has many suitors. She is in no respect inferior to 
the child of your own parents, and I should like to know 
what you would say if I made so bold as to compare 
the proud Lucretia with this poor little thing, who car- 
ries water like a serving-maid. — ” 

“Do so, by all means!” interrupted Publius coolly, 
“ I do not take your rage amiss, for you do not know 
who these two sisters are, in the temple of Serapis. 
Besides, they do not fill their jars for men but in 
the service of a god. Here — take this roll and 
read it through while I answer the despatch from 
Rome. Here! Spartacus, come and light a few more 
lamps.” 

In a few minutes the two young men were sitting 
opposite each other at the table which stood in the 
middle of their tent. Publius wrote busily, and only 
looked up when his friend, who was reading the an- 
chorite’s document, struck his hand on the table in dis- 
gust or sprang from his seat ejaculating bitter words of 
indignation. Both had finished at the same moment, 
and when Publius had folded and sealed his letter, and 


144 


THE SISTERS. 


Lysias had flung the roll on to the table, the Roman said 
slowly, as he looked his friend steadily in the face: 
'‘Well?’? 

“Well!” repeated Lysias. “I now find myself in 
the humiliating position of being obliged to deem my- 
self more stupid than you — I must own you in the right, 
and beg your pardon for having thought you insolent 
and arrogant! Never, no never did I hear a story so 
infernally scandalous as that in that roll, and such a 
thing could never have occurred but among these ac- 
cursed Egyptians! Poor little Irene! And how can the 
dear little girl have kept such a sunny look through it 
all ! I could thrash myself like any school-boy to think 
that I— a fool among fools — should have directed the 
attention of Euergetes to this girl, and he, the most 
powerful and profligate man in the whole country. 
What can now be done to save Irene from him? I 
cannot endure the thought of seeing her aban- 
doned to his clutches, and I will not permit it to 
happen. 

“ Do not you think that we ought to take the water- 
bearers under our charge ? ” 

“Not only we ought but we must,” said Publius 
decisively; “and if we did not we should be contemp- 
tible wretches. Since the recluse took me into his con- 
fidence I feel as if it were my duty to watch over these 
girls whose parents have been stolen from them, as if I 
were their guardian — and you, my Lysias, shall help 
me. The elder sister is not now very friendly towards 
me, but I do not esteem her the less for that; the 
younger one seems less grave and reserved than Klea; 
I saw how she responded to your smile when the pro- 
cession broke up. Afterwards, you did not come home 


THE SISTERS. 


*45 

immediately any more than I did, and I suspect that it 
was Irene who detained you. Be frank, I earnestly 
beseech you, and tell me all ; for we must act in unison, 
and with thorough deliberation, if we hope to succeed 
in spoiling Euergetes’ game.” 

“ I have not much to tell you,” replied the Corin- 
thian. “After the procession I went to the Pastopho- 
rium — naturally it was to see Irene, and in order not 
to fail in this I allowed the pilgrims to tell me what 
visions the god had sent them in their dreams, and 
what advice had been given them in the temple of 
Asclepius as to what to do for their own complaints, 
and those of their cousins, male and female. 

“Quite half an hour had passed so before Irene 
came. She carried a little basket in which lay the gold 
ornaments she had worn at the festival, and which she 
had to restore to the keeper of the temple-treasure. 
My pomegranate-flower, which she had accepted in the 
morning, shone upon me from afar, and then, when she 
caught sight of me and blushed all over, casting down 
her eyes, then it was that it first struck me ‘just like 
the Hebe on our cistern.’ 

“ She wanted to pass me, but I detained her, beg- 
ging her to show me the ornaments in her hand; I said 
a number of things such as girls like to hear, and then 
I asked her if she were strictly watched, and whether 
they gave her delicate little hands and feet — which were 
worthy of better occupation than water-carrying — a 
great deal to do. She did not hesitate to answer, but 
with all she said she rarely raised her eyes . The longer 
you look at her the lovelier she is — and yet she is still 
a mere child — though a child certainly who no longer 
loves staying at home, who has dreams of splendor, and 


146 


THE SISTERS. 


enjoyment, and freedom while she is kept shut up in a 
dismal, dark place, and left to starve. 

“The poor creatures may never quit the temple 
excepting for a procession, or before sunrise. It 
sounded too delightful when she said that she was 
always so horribly tired, and so glad to go to sleep 
again after she was waked, and had to go out at once 
just when it is coldest, in the twilight before sunrise. 
Then she has to draw water from a cistern called the 
Well of the Sun.” 

“Do you know where that cistern lies?” asked Pub- 
lius. 

“Behind the acacia-grove,” answered Lysias. “The 
guide pointed it out to me. It is said to hold particu- 
larly sacred water, which must be poured as a libation 
to the god at sunrise, unmixed with any other. The 
girls must get up so early, that as soon as dawn breaks 
water from this cistern shall not be lacking at the altar 
of Serapis. It is poured out on the earth by the priests 
as a drink-offering.” 

Publius had listened attentively, and had not lost a 
word of his friend’s narrative. He now quitted him 
hastily, opened the tent-door, and went out into the 
night, looking up to discover the hour from the stars 
which were silently pursuing their everlasting courses in 
countless thousands, and sparkling with extraordinary 
brilliancy in the deep blue sky. The moon was already 
set, and the morning-star was slowly rising— every 
night since the Roman had been in the land of the 
Pyramids he had admired its magnificent size and 
brightness. 

A cold breeze fanned the young man’s brow, and 
as he drew his robe across his breast with a shiver, he 


THE SISTERS. 


H7 


thought of the sisters, who, before long, would have to 
go out in the fresh morning air. Once more he raised 
his eyes from the earth to the firmament over his head, 
and it seemed to him that he saw before his very eyes 
the proud form of Klea, enveloped in a mantle sown 
over with stars. His heart throbbed high, and he felt 
as if the breeze that his heaving breast inhaled in deep 
breaths was as fresh and pure as the ether that floats 
over Elysium, and of a strange potency withal, as if too 
rare to breathe. Still he fancied he saw before him the 
image of Klea, but as he stretched out his hand towards 
the beautiful vision it vanished — a sound of hoofs and 
wheels fell upon his ear. Publius was not accustomed 
to abandon himself to dreaming when action was 
needed, and this reminded him of the purpose for which 
he had come out into the open air. Chariot after char- 
iot came driving past as he returned into his tent. 
Lysias, who during his absence had been pacing up and 
down and reflecting, met him with the question : 

“How long is it yet till sunrise?” 

“ Hardly two hours,” replied the Roman. “And we 
must make good use of them if we would not arrive too 
late.” 

“So I think too,” said the Corinthian. “The sisters 
will soon be at the Well of the Sun outside the temple- 
walls, and I will persuade Irene to follow me. You 
think I shall not be successful? Nor do I myself — but 
still perhaps she will if I promise to show her something 
very pretty, and if she does not suspect that she is to be 
parted from her sister, for she is like a child.” 

“But Klea,” interrupted Publius thoughtfully, “is 
grave and prudent ; and the light tone which you are so 
ready to adopt will be very little to her taste. Consider 


148 


THE SISTERS. 


that, and dare the attempt — no, you dare not deceive her. 
Tell her the whole truth, out of Irene’s hearing, with the 
gravity the matter deserves, and she will not hinder her 
sister when she knows how great and how imminent is 
the danger that threatens her.” 

“Good!” said the Corinthian. “I will be so sol- 
emnly earnest that the most wrinkled and furrowed gray- 
beard among the censors of your native city shall seem 
a Dionysiac dancer compared with me. I will speak 
like your Cato when he so bitterly complained that the 
epicures of Rome paid more now for a barrel of fresh her- 
rings than for a yoke of oxen. You shall be perfectly 
satisfied with me! — But whither am I to conduct Irene? 
I might perhaps make use of one of the king’s chariots 
which are passing now by dozens to carry the guests 
home.” 

“ I also had thought of that,” replied Publius. “ Go 
with the chief of the Diadoches, whose splendid house 
was shown to us yesterday. It is on the way to the 
Serapeum, and just now at the feast you were talking 
with him incessantly. When there, indemnify the driver 
by the gift of a gold piece, so that he may not betray us, 
and do not return here but proceed to the harbor. I 
will await you near the little temple of Isis with our 
travelling chariot and my own horses, will receive Irene, 
and conduct her to some new refuge while you drive 
back Euergetes’ chariot, and restore it to the driver.” 

“That will not satisfy me by any means,” said Ly- 
sias very gravely ; “ I was ready to give up my pome- 
granate-flower to you yesterday for Irene, but herself — ” 

“ I want nothing of her,” exclaimed Publius annoyed. 
“ But you might — it seems to me — be rather more zeal- 
ous in helping me to preserve her from the misfortune 


THE SISTERS. 


149 


which threatens her through your own blunder. We 
cannot bring her here, but I think that I have thought 
of a safe hiding-place for her. 

“ Do you remember Apollodorus, the sculptor, to 
whom we were recommended by my father, and his kind 
and friendly wife who set before us that capital Chios 
wine ? The man owes me a service, for my father com- 
missioned him and his assistants to execute the mosaic 
pavement in the new arcade he was having built in the 
capitol; and subsequently, when the envy of rival artists 
threatened his life, my father saved him. You yourself 
heard him say that he and his were all at my disposal.” 

“ Certainly, certainly,” said Lysias. “ But say, does 
it not strike you as most extraordinary that artists, the 
very men, that is to say, who beyond all others devote 
themselves to ideal aims and efforts, are particularly 
ready to yield to the basest impulses; envy, detraction, 
and — ” 

“ Man ! ” exclaimed Publius, angrily interrupting the 
Greek, “ can you never for ten seconds keep on the same 
subject, and never keep anything to yourself that comes 
into your head? We have just now, as it seems to 
me, more important matters to discuss than the jealousy 
of each other shown by artists — and in my opinion, by 
learned men too. The sculptor Apollodorus, who is 
thus beholden to me, has been living here for the last 
six months with his wife and daughters, for he has been 
executing for Philometor the busts of the philosophers, 
and the animal groups to decorate the open space in 
front of the tomb of Apis. His sons are managers of 
his large factory in Alexandria, and when he next goes 
there, down the Nile in his boat, as often happens, he 
can take Irene with him, and put her on board a ship. 


THE SISTERS. 


* 5 ° 

As to where we can have her taken to keep her safe 
from Euergetes, we will talk that over afterwards with 
Apollodorus.” 

“ Good, very good,” agreed the Corinthian. “ By 
Heracles! I am not suspicious — still it does not alto- 
gether please me that you should yourself conduct 
Irene to Apollodorus, for if you are seen in her com- 
pany our whole project may be shipwrecked. Send the 
sculptor’s wife, who is little known in Memphis, to the 
temple of Isis, and request her to bring a veil and 
cloak to conceal the girl. Greet the gay Milesian from 
me too, and tell her — no, tell her nothing — I shall see 
her myself afterwards at the temple of Isis.” 

During the last words of this conversation, slaves 
had been enveloping the two young men in their man- 
tles. They now quitted the tent together, wished each 
other success, and set out at a brisk pace; the Roman 
to have his horses harnessed, and Lysias to accompany 
the chief of the Diadoches in one of the king’s chariots, 
and then to act on the plan he had agreed upon with 
Publius. 


CHAPTER XIII. 

Chariot after chariot hurried out of the great gate 
of the king’s palace and into the city, now sunk in 
slumber. All was still in the great banqueting-hall, and 
dark-hued slaves began with brooms and sponges to 
clean the mosaic pavement, which was strewed with 
rose leaves and with those that had fallen from the 
faded garlands of ivy and poplar; while here and there 


THE SISTERS. 


151 

the spilt wine shone with a dark gleam in the dim light 
of the few lamps that had not been extinguished. 

A young flute-player, overcome with sleep and wine, 
still sat in one corner. The poplar wreath that had 
crowned his curls had slipped over his pretty face, but 
even in sleep he still held his flute clasped fast in his 
fingers. The servants let him sleep on, and bustled 
about without noticing him; only an overseer pointed 
to him, and said laughing: 

“ His companions went home no more sober than 
that one. He is a pretty boy, and pretty Chloe’s lover 
besides — she will look for him in vain this morning.” 

“And to-morrow too perhaps,” answered another; 
“ for if the fat king sees her, poor Damon will have seen 
the last of her.” 

But the fat king, as Euergetes was called by the 
Alexandrians, and, following their example, by all the 
rest of Egypt, was not just then thinking of Chloe, nor 
of any such person; he was in the bath attached to his 
splendidly fitted residence. Divested of all clothing, he 
was standing in the tepid fluid which completely filled 
a huge basin of white marble. The clear surface of the 
perfumed water mirrored statues of nymphs fleeing from 
the pursuit of satyrs, and reflected the shimmering light 
of numbers of lamps suspended from the ceiling. At 
the upper end of the bath reclined the bearded and 
stalwart statue of the Nile, over whom the sixteen in- 
fant figures — representing the number of ells to which 
the great Egyptian stream must rise to secure a favor- 
able inundation — clambered and played to the delight 
of their noble father Nile and of themselves. From 
the vase which supported the arm of the venerable god 
flowed an abundant stream of cold water, which five 


THE SISTERS. 


* 5 * 

pretty lads received in slender alabaster vases, and 
poured over the head and the enormously prominent 
muscles of the breast, the back and the amis of the 
young king who was taking his bath. 

“More, more — again and again,” cried Euergetes, 
as the boys began to pause in bringing and pouring the 
water; and then, when they threw a fresh stream over 
him, he snorted and plunged with satisfaction, and a 
perfect shower of jets splashed off him as the blast of his 
breath sputtered away the water that fell over his face. 

At* last he shouted out : “ Enough ! ” flung himself 
with all his force into the water, that spurted up as if a 
huge block of stone had been thrown into it, held his 
head for a long time under water, and then went up the 
marble steps of the bath shaking his head violently and 
mischievously in his boyish insolence, so as thoroughly 
to wet his friends and servants who were standing round 
the margin of the basin; he suffered himself to be 
wrapped in snowy- white sheets of the thinnest and finest 
linen, to be sprinkled with costly essences of delicate 
odor, and then he withdrew into a small room hung all 
round with gaudy hangings. 

There he flung himself on a mound of soft cushions, 
and said with a deep-drawn breath: “ Now I am happy; 
and I am as sober again as a baby that has never tasted 
anything but its mother’s milk. Pindar is right! there 
is nothing better than water! and it slakes that raging 
fire which wine lights up in our brain and blood. Did 
I talk much nonsense just now, Hierax ? ” 

The man thus addressed, the commander-in-chief of 
the royal troops, and the king’s particular friend, cast a 
hesitating glance at the bystanders; but, Euergetes de- 
siring him to speak without reserve, he replied : 


THE SISTERS. 


1.53 


“ Wine never weakens the mind of such as you are to 
the point of folly, but you were imprudent. It would be 
little short of a miracle if Philometor did not remark — ” 

“Capital!” interrupted the king sitting up on his 
cushions. “You, Hierax, and you, Komanus, remain 
here — you others may go. But do not go too far off, 
so as to be close at hand in case I should need you. 
In these days as much happens in a few hours as usually 
takes place in as many years.” 

Those who were thus dismissed withdrew, only the 
king’s dresser, a Macedonian of rank, paused doubtfully 
at the door, but Euergetes signed to him to retire imme- 
diately, calling after him : 

“I am very merry and shall not go to bed. At 
three hours after sunrise I expect Aristarchus — and for 
work too. Put out the manuscripts that I brought. Is 
the Eunuch Eulaeus waiting in the anteroom? Yes— 
so much the better! 

“Now we are alone, my wise friends Hierax and 
Komanus, and I must explain to you that on this occa- 
sion, out of pure prudence, you seem to me to have 
been anything rather than prudent. To be prudent is 
to have the command of a wide circle of thought, so that 
what is close at hand is no more an obstacle than what 
is remote. The narrow mind can command only that 
which lies close under observation; the fool and vision- 
ary only that which is far off. I will not blame you, for 
even the wisest has his hours of folly, but on this occa- 
sion you have certainly overlooked that which is at 
hand, in gazing at the distance, and I see you stumble in 
consequence. If you had not fallen into that error you 
would hardly have looked so bewildered when, just now, 
I exclaimed ‘ Capital!' 

11 


*54 


THE SISTERS. 


“Now, attend to me. Philometor and my sister 
know very well what my humor is, and what to expect 
of me. If I had put on the mask of a satisified man 
they would have been surprised, and have scented mis- 
chief, but as it was I showed myself to them exactly 
what I always am and even more reckless than usual, 
and talked of what I wanted so openly that they may 
indeed look forward to some deed of violence at my 
hands but hardly to a treacherous surprise, and that to- 
morrow ; for he who falls on his enemy in the rear 
makes no noise about it. 

“ If I believed in your casuistry, I might think that 
to attack the enemy from behind was not a particularly 
fine thing to do, for even I would rather see a man’s 
face than his rear — particularly in the case of my brother 
and sister, who are both handsome to look upon. But 
what can a man do? After all, the best thing to do 
is what wins the victory and makes the game. Indeed, 
my mode of warfare has found supporters among the 
wise. If you want to catch mice you must waste bacon, 
and if we are to tempt men into a snare we must know 
what their notions and ideas are, and begin by endeav- 
oring to confuse them. 

“A bull is least dangerous when he runs straight 
ahead in his fury; while his two-legged opponent is 
least dangerous when he does not know what he is 
about and runs feeling his way first to the right and 
then to the left. Thanks to your approval — for I have 
deserved it, and I hope to be able to return it, my friend 
Hierax. I am curious as to your report. Shake up the 
cushion here under my head — and now you may 
begin.” 

“All appears admirably arranged,” answered the 

T C 


THE SISTERS*. 


155 


general. “ The flower of our troops, the Diadoches 
and Hetairoi, two thousand-five hundred men, are on 
their way hither, and by to-morrow will encamp north 
of Memphis. Five hundred will find their way into the 
citadel, with the priests and other visitors to congratu- 
late you on your birthday, the other two thousand will 
remain concealed in the tents. : The captain of your 
brother Philometor’s Philobasilistes is bought over, and 
will stand by us; but his price was high — Komanus was 
breed to offer him twenty talents before he would 
oite.” 

“He shall have them,” said the king laughing, “and 
he shall keep them too, till it suits me to regard him as 
suspicious, and to reward him according to his deserts 
by confiscating his estates. Well ! proceed.” 

“ In order to quench the rising in Thebes, the day 
before yesterday Philometor sent the best of the merce- 
naries with the standards of Desilaus and Arsinoe to the 
South. Certainly it cost not,,a little to bribe the ring- 
leaders, and to stir up the discontent to an outbreak.” 

“ My brother will repay us for this outlay,” inter- 
rupted the king, “when we pour his treasure into our 
own coffers. Go on.” 

“We shall have most difficulty with the priests and 
the Jews. The former cling to Philometor, because he 
is the eldest son of his father, and has given large boun- 
ties to the temples, particularly of Apollinopolis and 
Philae; the Jews are attached to him, because he favors 
them more than the Greeks, and he, and his wife — your 
illustrious sister — trouble themselves with their vain relig- 
ious squabbles; he disputes with them about the doc- 
trines contained in their book, and at table too prefers 
conversing with them to any one else.” 


THE SISTERS. 


J 5 6 

“ I will salt the wine and meat for them that they 
fatten on here,” cried Euergetes vehemently, “ I forbade 
to-day their presence at my table, for they have good 
eyes and wits as sharp as their noses. And they are 
most dangerous when they are in fear, or can reckon on 
any gains. 

“At the same time it cannot be denied that they are 
honest and tenacious, and as most of them are pos- 
sessed of some property they rarely make common cause 
with the shrieking mob — particularly here in Alex- 
andria. 

“ Envy alone can reproach them for their industry 
and enterprise, for the activity of the Hellenes has im- 
proved upon the example set by them and their Phoe- 
nician kindred. 

“They thrive best in peaceful times, and since the 
world runs more quietly here, under my brother and 
sister, than under me, they attach themselves to them, 
lend my brother money, and supply my sister with cut 
stones, sapphires and emeralds, selling fine stuffs and 
other woman’s gear for a scrap of written papyrus, which 
will soon be of no more value than the feather which 
falls from the wing of that green screaming bird on the 
perch yonder. 

“ It is incomprehensible to me that so keen a people 
cannot perceive that there is nothing permanent but 
change, nothing so certain as that nothing is certain ; 
and that they therefore should regard their god as the 
one only god, their own doctrine as absolutely and eter- 
nally true, and that they contemn what other peoples 
believe. 

“These darkened views make fools of them, but cer- 
tainly good soldiers too — perhaps by reason indeed of 


THE SISTERS. 


*57 


this very exalted self-consciousness and their firm reli- 
ance on their supreme god.” 

“Yes, they certainly are,” assented Hierax. “But 
they serve your brother more willingly, and at a lower 
price, than us.” 

“ I will show them,” cried the king, “ that their taste 
is a perverted and obnoxious one. I require of the 
priests that they should instruct the people to be obedi- 
ent, and to bear their privations patiently; but the 
Jews,” and at these words his eyes rolled with an omi- 
nous glare, “the Jews I will exterminate, when the time 
comes.” 

“ That will be good for our treasury too,” laughed 
Komanus. 

“And for the temples in the country,” added Euer- 
getes, “ for though I seek to extirpate other foes I would 
rather win over the priests; and I must try to win 
them if Philometor’s kingdom falls into my hands, for 
the Egyptians require that their king should be a god; 
and I cannot arrive at the dignity of a real god, to whom 
my swarthy subjects will pray with thorough satisfaction, 
and without making my life a burden to me by con- 
tinual revolts, unless I am raised to it by the suffrages of 
the priests.” 

“And nevertheless,” replied Hierax, who was the 
only one of Euergetes’ dependents, who dared to con- 
tradict him on important questions, “nevertheless this 
very day a grave demand is to be preferred on your ac- 
count to the high-priest of Serapis. You press for the 
surrender of a servant of the god, and Philometor will 
not neglect — ” 

“Will not neglect,” interrupted Euergetes, “to inform 
the mighty Asclepiodorus that he wants the sweet 


* 5 8 


THE SISTERS. 


creature for me, and not for himself. Do you know 
that Eros has pierced my heart, and that I burn for the 
fair Irene, although these eyes have not yet been blessed 
with the sight of her ? 

“ I see you believe me, and I am speaking the exact 
truth, for I vow I will possess myself of this infantine 
Hebe as surely as I hope to win my brother’s throne; 
but when I plant a tree, it is not merely to ornament my 
garden but to get some use of it. You will see how 1 
will win over both the prettiest of little lady-loves and 
the high-priest who, to .be sure, is a Greek, but still a 
man hard to bend. My tools are all ready outside 
there. 

“ Now, leave me, and order Eulaeus to join me here.” 

“ You are as a divinity/’ said Komanus, bowing 
deeply, “and we but as frail mortals. Your proceedings 
often seem dark and incomprehensible to our weak in- 
tellect, but when a course, which to us seems to lead to 
no good issue, turns out well, we are forced to admit 
with astonishment that you always choose the best way, 
though often a tortuous one.” 

For a short time the king was alone, sitting with his 
black brows knit, and gazing meditatively at the floor. 
But as soon as he heard the soft foot-fall of Eulaeus, and 
the louder step of his guide, he once more assumed the 
aspect of a careless and reckless man of the world, 
shouted a jolly welcome to Eulaeus, reminded him of 
his, the king’s, boyhood, and of how often he, Eulaeus, 
had helped him to persuade his mother to grant him 
some wish she had previously refused him. 

“ But now, old boy,” continued the king, “ the times 
are changed, and with you now-a-days it is everything 
for Philometor and nothing for poor Euergetes, who, 


th£ ; sisters. 159 

being the younger, is just the one who most needs your 
assistance.” 

Eulaeus bowed with a smile which conveyed that he 
understood perfectly how little the king’s last words 
were spoken in earnest, and he said: 

“ I purposed always to assist the weaker of you two, 
and that is what I believe myself to be doing now.” 

“You mean my sister?” 

“ Our sovereign lady Cleopatra is of the sex which 
is often unjustly called the weaker. Though you no 
doubt were pleased to speak in jest when you asked that 
•question, I feel bound to answer you distinctly that it 
was not Cleopatra that I meant, but King Philometor.” 

“ Philometor ? Then you have no faith in his strength, 
you regard me as stronger than he; and yet, at the ban- 
quet to-day, you offered me your services, and told me 
that the task had devolved upon you of demanding the 
surrender of the little serving-maiden of Serapis, in the 
king’s name, of Asclepiodorus, the high-priest. Do 
you call that aiding the weaker? But perhaps you were 
drunk when you told me that? 

“No? You were more moderate than I? Then 
some Other change of views must have taken place in 
you; and yet that would very much surpnse me, since 
your principles require you to aid the weaker son of my 
mother—” 

“You are laughing at me,” interrupted the courtier 
with gentle reproachfulness, and yet in a tone of en- 
treaty. “ If I took your side it was not from caprice, 
but simply and expressly from a desire to remain faith- 
ful to the one aim and end of my life.” 

“And that is?” 

“To provide for the welfare of this country in the 


THE SISTERS. 


160 

same sense as did your illustrious mother, whose coun- 
sellor I was.” 

“But you forget to mention the other — to place 
yourself to the best possible advantage.” 

“ I did not forget it, but I did not mention it, for I 
know how closely measured out are the moments of a 
king; and besides, it seems to me as self-evident that we 
think of our personal advantage as that when we buy a 
horse we also buy his shadow.” 

“How subtle! But I no more blame you than I 
should a girl who stands before her mirror to deck her- 
self for her lover, and who takes the same opportunity 
of rejoicing in her own beauty. 

“ However, to return to your first speech. It is for 
the sake of Egypt as you think — if I understand you 
rightly — that you now offer me the services you have 
hitherto devoted to my brother’s interests?” 

“As you say; in these difficult times the country 
needs the will and the hand of a powerful leader.” 

“ And such a leader you think I am?” 

“ Aye, a giant in strength of will, body and intellect 
— whose desire to unite the two parts of Egypt in your 
sole possession cannot fail, if you strike and grasp 
boldly, and if — ” 

“If?” repeated the king, looking at the speaker so 
keenly that his eyes fell, and he answered softly: 

“ If Rome should raise no objection.” 

Euergetes shrugged his shoulders, and replied 
gravely : 

“ Rome indeed is like Fate, which always must give 
the final decision in everything we do. I have certainly 
not been behindhand in enormous sacrifices to mollify 
that inexorable power, and my representative, through 


THE SISTERS. 


161 


whose hands pass far greater sums than through those 
of the paymasters of the troops, writes me word that 
they are not unfavorably disposed towards me in the 
Senate.” 

“We have learned that from ours also. You have 
more friends by the Tiber than Philometor, my own 
king, has; but our last despatch is already several weeks 
old, and in the last few days things have occurred — ” 

“ Speak ! ” cried Euergetes, sitting bolt upright on his 
cushions. “ But if you are laying a trap for me, and if 
you are speaking now as my brother’s tool, I will punish 
you — aye ! and if you fled to the uttermost cave of the 
Troglodytes I would have you followed up, and you 
should be torn in pieces alive, as surely as I believe my- 
self to be the true son of my father.” 

“And I should deserve the punishment,” replied 
Eulaeus humbly. Then he went on : “ If I see clearly, 
great events lie before us in the next few days.” 

“Yes — truly,” said Euergetes firmly. 

“But just at present Philometor is better represented 
in Rome than he has ever been. You made acquaint- 
ance with young Publius Scipio at the king’s table, and 
showed little zeal in endeavoring to win his good graces.” 

“He is one of the Comelii,” interrupted the king, 
“a distinguished young man, and related to all the 
noblest blood of Rome; but he is not an ambassador; 
he has travelled from Athens to Alexandria, in order to 
learn more than he need; and he carries his head higher 
and speaks more freely than becomes him before kings, 
because the young fellows fancy it looks well to behave 
like their elders.” 

“He is of more importance than you imagine.” 

“Then I will invite him to Alexandria, and there 


162 


THE SISTERS. 


will win him over in three days, as surely as my name 
is Euergetes.” 

“It will then be too late, for he has to-day received, 
as I know for certain, plenipotentiary powers from the 
Senate to act in their name in case of need, until the en- 
voy who is to be sent here again arrives.” : i ...■ 

“ And I only now learn this for the first time ! ” cried 
the king springing up from his couch, “my friends must 
be deaf, and blind and dull indeed, if still I, have any, 
and my servants and emissaries too ! I cannot bear this 
haughty ungracious fellow; but I will invite him to- 
morrow morning — nay I will invite him to-day, to a fes- 
tive entertainment, and send him the four handsomest 
horses that I have brought with me from Cyrene. I 
will—” 

“ It will all be in vain,” said Eulseus calmly and dis- 
passionately. “For he is master, in the fullest and 
widest meaning of the word, of the queen’s favor — nay 
— if I may permit myself to speak out freely — of Cleo- 
patra’s more than warm liking, and he enjoys this sweet- 
est of gifts with a thankful heart. Philometor — as he 
always does — lets matters go as they may, and Cleopatra 
and Publius — Publius and Cleopatra triumph even pub- 
licly in their love; gaze into each other’s eyes like any 
pair of pastoral Arcadians, exchange cups and kiss the 
rim on the spot where the lips of the other have touched 
it. Promise and grant what you will to this man, he 
will stand by your sister; and if you should succeed in 
expelling her from the throne he would boldly treat you 
as Popilius Lsenas did your uncle Antiochus : he would 
draw a circle round your person, and say that if you 
dared to step beyond it Rome would march against 
you.” 


THE SISTERS. 


163 

Euergetes listened in silence, then, flinging away the 
draperies that wrapped his body, he paced up and down 
in stormy agitation, groaning from time to time, and 
roaring like a wild bull that feels itself confined with 
cords and bands, and that exerts all its strength in vain 
to rend them. 

Finally he stood still in front of Eulasus and asked 
him: 

“ What more do you know of the Roman ? ” 

“ He, who would not allow you to compare yourself 
to Alcibiades, is endeavoring to out-do that darling of 
the Athenian maidens; for he is not content with having 
stolen the heart of the king’s wife, he is putting out his 
hand to reach the fairest virgin who serves ihe highest 
of the gods. The water-bearer whom Lysias, the 
Roman’s friend, recommended for a Hebe is beloved by 
Publius, and he hopes to enjoy her favors more easily 
in your gay palace than he can in the gloomy temple of 
Serapis.” 

At these words the king struck his forehead with his 
hand, exclaiming: “Oh! to be a king — a man who is 
a match for any ten ! and to be obliged to submit with 
a patient shrug like a peasant whose grain my horsemen 
crush into the ground! 

“He can spoil everything; mar all my plans and 
thwart all my desires — and I can do nothing but 
clench my fist, and suffocate with rage. But this 
fuming and groaning are just as unavailing as my 
raging and cursing by the death-bed of my mother, 

who was dead all the same and never got up 

again. 

“ If this Publius were a Greek, a Syrian, an Egyptian 
— nay, were he my own brother— I tell you, Eulseus, he 


164 


THE SISTERS. 


should not long stand in my way; but he is pleni- 
potentiary from Rome, and Rome is Fate — Rome is 
Fate.” 

The king flung himself back on to his cushions with 
a deep sigh, and as if crushed with despair, hiding his 
face in the soft pillows; but Eulseus crept noiselessly up 
to the young giant, and whispered in his ear with sol- 
emn deliberateness: 

“Rome is Fate, but even Rome can do nothing 
against Fate. Publius Scipio must die because he is 
ruining your mother’s daughter, and stands in the way 
of your saving Egypt. The Senate would take a terrible 
revenge if he were murdered, but what can they do if 
wild beasts fall on their plenipotentiary, and tear him to 
pieces ? ” 

“ Grand ! splendid ! ” cried Euergetes, springing again 
to his feet, and opening his large eyes with radiant sur- 
prise and delight, as if heaven itself had opened before 
them, revealing the sublime host of the gods feasting at 
golden tables. 

“You are a great man, Eulaeus, and I shall know 
how to reward you; but do you know of such wild 
beasts as we require, and do they know how to conduct 
themselves so that no one shall dare to harbor even the 
shadow of a suspicion that the wounds tom by their 
teeth and claws were inflicted by daggers, pikes or spear- 
heads?” 

“ Be perfectly easy,” replied Eulaeus. “These beasts 
of prey have already had work to do here in Memphis, 
and are in the service of the king — ” 

“Aha! of my gentle brother!” laughed Euergetes. 
“ And he boasts of never having killed any one except- 
ing in battle — and now — ” 


THE SISTERS. 1 65 

“But Philometor has a wife,” interposed Eulaeus; 
and Euergetes went on. 

“Aye, woman, woman! what is there that a man 
may not learn from a woman ? ” 

Then he added in a lower tone : “ When can your 
wild beasts do their work ? ” 

“The sun has long since risen; before it sets I will 
have made my preparations, and by about midnight, I 
should think, the deed may be done. We will promise 
the Roman a secret meeting, lure him out to the tem- 
ple of Serapis, and on his way home through the desert — ” 
“Aye, then, — ” cried the king, making a thrust at 
his own breast as though his hand held a dagger, and 
he added in warning: “But your beasts must be as 
powerful as lions, and as cautious — as cautious, as cats. 
If you want gold apply to Komanus, or, better still, take 
this purse. Is it enough? Still I must ask you; have 
you any personal ground of hatred against the Roman ? ” 
“Yes,” answered Eulaeus decisively. “He guesses 
that I know all about him and his doings, and he has 
attacked me with false accusations which may bring me 
into peril this very day. If you should hear that the 
queen has decided on throwing me into prison, take im- 
mediate steps for my liberation.” 

“No one shall touch a hair of your head; depend 
upon that. I see that it is to your interest to play my 
game, and I am heartily glad of it, for a man works 
with all his might for no one but himself. And now for 
the last thing: When will you fetch my little Hebe?” 

“In an hour’s time I am going to Asclepiodorus; 
but we must not demand the girl till to-morrow, for to- 
day she must remain in the temple as a decoy-bird for 
Publius Scipio.” 


i66 


THE SISTERS. 

“I will take patience; still I have yet another charge 
to give you. Represent the matter to the high-priest 
in such a way that he shall think my brother wishes to 
gratify one of my fancies by demanding — absolutely de- 
manding — the water-bearer on my behalf. Provoke the 
man as far as is possible without exciting suspicion, and it 
I know him rightly, he will stand upon his rights, and 
refuse you persistently. Then, after you, will come 
Komanus from me with greetings and gifts and promises. 

“To-morrow, when we have done what must be done 
to the Roman, you shall fetch the girl in my brother’s 
name either by cunning or by force ; and the day after, 
if the gods graciously lend me their aid in uniting the 
two realms of Egypt under my own hand, I will explain 
to Asclepiodorus that I have punished Philometor for 
his sacrilege against his temple, and have deposed him 
from the throne. Serapis shall see which of us is his 
friend. 

“ If all goes well, as I mean that it shall, I will appoint 
you Epitropon of the re-united kingdom — that I swear to 
you by the souls of my deceased ancestors. I will speak 
with you to-day at any hour you may demand it.” 

Eulseus departed with a step as light as if his inter- 
view with the king had restored him to youth. 

When Hierax, Komanus, and the other officers re- 
turned to the room, Euergetes gave orders that his four 
finest horses from Cyrene should be led before noonday 
to his friend Publius Cornelius Scipio, in token of his 
affection and respect. Then he suffered himself to be 
dressed, and went to Aristarchus with whom he sat 
down to work at his studies. 


THE SISTERS. 


167 


' . tr.’-f :■ 1 : . 

CHAPTER XIV. 

The temple of Serapis lay in restful silence, enveloped 
in darkness, which so far hid its four wings from sight as 
to give it the aspect of a single rock-like mass wrapped 
in purple mist. 

Outside the temple precincts too all had been still ; 
but just now a clatter of hoofs and rumble of wheels was 
audible through the silence, otherwise so profound that 
it seemed increased by every sound. Before the vehicle 
which occasioned this disturbance had reached the tem- 
ple, it stopped, just outside the sacred acacia- grove, 
for the neighing of a horse was now audible in that di- 
rection. 

It was one of the king’s horses that neighed; Lysias, 
the Greek, tied him up to a tree by the road at the edge 
of the grove, flung his mantle over the loins of the 
smoking beast; and feeling his way from tree to tree 
soon found himself by the Well of the Sun where he sat 
down on the margin. 

Presently from the east came a keen, cold breeze, the 
harbinger of sunrise ; the gray gloaming began by de- 
grees to pierce and part the tops of the tall trees, which, 
in the darkness, had seemed a compact black roof. The 
crowing of cocks rang out from the court-yard of the 
temple, and, as the Corinthian rose with a shiver to 
warm himself by a rapid walk backwards and forwards, 
he heard a door creak near the outer wall of the temple, 
of which the outline now grew sharper and clearer every 
instant in the growing light. 


THE SISTERS. 


1 68 


He now gazed with eager observation down the path 
which, as the day approached, stood out with increasing 
clearness from the surrounding shades, and his heart 
began to beat faster as he perceived a figure approach- 
ing the well, with rapid steps. It was a human form 
that advanced towards him — only one — no second 
figure accompanied it; but it w r as not a man — no, a 
woman in a long robe. Still, she for whom he waited 
was surely smaller than the woman, who now came near 
to him. Was it the elder and not the younger sister, 
whom alone he was anxious to speak with, who came 
to the well this morning? 

He could now distinguish her light foot-fall — now 
she was divided from him by a young acacia-shrub 
which hid her from his gaze — now she set down two 
water-jars on the ground — now she briskly lifted the 
bucket and filled the vessel she held in her left hand — 
now she looked towards the eastern horizon, where the 
dim light of dawn grew broader and brighter, and 
Lysias thought he recognized Irene — and now — Praised 
be the gods! he was sure; before him stood the younger 
and not the elder sister; the very maiden whom he sought. 

Still half concealed by the acacia-shrub, and in a 
soft voice so as not to alarm her, he called Irene’s name, 
and the poor child’s blood froze with terror, for never 
before had she been startled by a man here, and at this 
hour. She stood as if rooted to the spot, and, trembling 
with fright, she pressed the cold, wet, golden jar, sacred 
to the god, closely to her bosom. 

Lysias repeated her name, a little louder than before, 
and went on, but in a subdued voice : 

“ Do not be frightened, Irene ; I am Lysias, the 
Corinthian — your friend, whose pomegranate- blossom 


THE SISTERS. 169 

you wore yesterday, and who spoke to you after the 
procession. Let me bid you good morning!” 

At these words the girl let her hand fall by her side, 
still holding the jar, and pressing her right hand to her 
heart, she exclaimed, drawing a deep breath : 

“How dreadfully you frightened me! I thought some 
wandering soul was calling me that had not yet returned 
to the nether world, for it is not till the sun rises that 
spirits are scared away.” 

“ But it cannot scare men of flesh and blood whose 
purpose is good. I, you may believe me, would will- 
ingly stay with you, till Helios departs again, if you 
would permit me.” 

“ I can neither permit nor forbid you anything,” an- 
swered Irene. “But, how came you here at this hour?” 

“ In a chariot,” replied Lysias smiling. 

“That is nonsense — I want to know what you came 
to the Well of the Sun for at such an hour.” 

“ What but for you yourself ? You told me yesterday 
that you were glad to sleep, and so am I ; still, to see 
you once more, I have been only to glad to shorten my 
night’s rest considerably.” 

“ But, how did you know ? ” 

“ You yourself told me yesterday at what time you 
were allowed to leave the temple.” 

“ Did I tell you ? Great Serapis ! how light it is 
already. I shall be punished if the water-jar is not 
standing on the altar by sunrise, and there is Klea’s too 
to be filled.” 

“ I will fill it for you directly — there — that is done ; 
and now I will carry them both for you to the end of 
the grove, if you will promise me to return soon, for I 
have many things to ask you.” 

12 


170 


THE SISTERS. 


“ Go on — only go on,” said the girl ; “ I know very 
little ; but ask away, though you will not find much to 
be made of any answers that I can give.” 

“ Oh i yes, indeed, I shall — for instance, if I asked 
you to tell me all about your parents. My friend Pub- 
lius, whom you know, and I also have heard how cruelly 
and unjustly they were punished, and we would gladly 
do much to procure their release.” 

“ I will come — I will be sure to come,” cried Irene 
loudly and eagerly, “ and shall I bring Klea with me ? 
She was called up in the middle of the night by the gate- 
keeper, whose child is very ill. My sister is very fond 
of it, and Philo will only take his medicine from her. 
The little one had gone to sleep in her lap, and his 
mother came and begged me to fetch the water for us 
both. Now give me the jars, for none but we may 
enter the temple.” 

“There they are. Do not disturb your sister on my 
account in her care of the poor little boy, for I might 
indeed have one or two things to say to you which 
she need not hear, and which might give you pleasure. 
Now, I am going back to the well, so farewell! But do 
not let me have., to wait very long for you.” He spoke 
in a tender tone of entreaty, and the girl answered low 
and rapidly as she hurried away from him : 

“ I will come when the sun is up.” 

The Corinthian looked after her till she had vanished 
within the temple, and his heart was stirred — stirred as 
it had not been for many years. He could not help re- 
calling the time when he would teaze his younger sister, 
then still quite a child, putting her to the test by asking 
her, with a perfectly grave face, to give him her cake 
or her apple which he did not really want at all. The 


THE SISTERS. 


m 

little one had almost always put the thing he asked for 
to his mouth with her tiny hands, and then he had often 
felt exactly as he felt now. 

Irene too was still but a child, and no less guileless 
than his darling in his own home; and just as his sister 
had trusted him — offering him the best she had to 
give — so this simple child trusted him; him, the profli- 
gate Lysias, before whom all the modest women of 
Corinth cast down their eyes, while fathers warned their 
growing-up sons against him; trusted him with her vir- 
gin self — nay, as he thought, her sacred person. 

“I will do thee no harm, sweet child!” he murmured 
to himself, as he presently turned on his heel to return 
to the well. He went forward quickly at first, but after 
a few steps he paused before the marvellous and glori- 
ous picture that met his gaze. Was Memphis in flames? 
Had fire fallen to burn up the shroud of mist which had 
veiled his way to the temple ? 

The trunks of the acacia-trees stood up like the 
blackened pillars of a burning city, and behind them the 
glow of a conflagration blazed high up to the heavens. 
Beams of violet and gold slipped and sparkled between 
the boughs, and danced among the thorny twigs, the 
white racemes of flowers, and the tufts of leaves with 
their feathery leaflets; the clouds above were fired with 
tints more pure and tender than those of the roses with 
which Cleopatra had decked herself for the banquet. 

Not like this did the sun rise in his own country! 
Or, was it perhaps only that in Corinth or in Athens at 
break of day, as he staggered home drunk from some 
feast, he had looked more at the earth than at the 
heavens ? 

His horses began now to neigh loudly as if to greet 


172 


THE SISTERS. 


the steeds of the coming Sun-god. Lysias hurried to 
them through the grove, patted their shining necks with 
soothing words, and stood looking down at the vast 
city at his feet, over which hung a film of violet mist — 
at the solemn Pyramids, over which the morning glow 
flung a gay robe of rose-color — on the huge temple of 
Ptah, with the great colossi in front of its pylons — on 
the Nile, mirroring the glory of the sky, and on the 
limestone hills behind the villages of Babylon and Troy, 
about which he had, only yesterday, heard a Jew at the 
king’s table relating a legend current among his country- 
men to the effect that these hills had been obliged to 
give up all their verdure to grace the mounts of the 
sacred city Hierosolyma. 

The rocky cliffs of this barren range glowed at this 
moment like the fire in the heart of the great ruby which 
had clasped the festal robe of King Euergetes across his 
bull-neck, as it reflected the shimmer of the tapers: and 
Lysias saw the day-star rising behind the range with 
blinding radiance, shooting forth rays like myriads of 
golden arrows, to rout and destroy his foe, the darkness 
of night. 

Eos, Helios, Phoebus Apollo — these had long been 
to him no more than names, with which he associated 
certain phenomena, certain processes and ideas; for he — 
when he was not luxuriating in the bath, amusing him- 
self in the gymnasium, at cock or quail-fights, in the 
theatre or at Dionysiac processions — was wont to exer- 
cise his wits in the schools of the philosophers, so as to 
be able to shine in bandying words at entertainments; 
but to-day, and face to face with this sunrise, he be- 
lieved as in the days of his childhood — he saw in his 
mind’s eye the god riding in his golden chariot, and 


THE SISTERS. 


*73 


curbing his foaming steeds, his shining train floating 
lightly round him, bearing torches or scattering flow- 
ers — he threw up his arms with an impulse of devotion, 
praying aloud: 

“To-day I am happy and light of heart. To thy 
presence do I owe this, O ! Phoebus Apollo, for thou 
art light itself. Oh ! let thy favors continue — ” 

But he here broke off in his invocation, and dropped 
his arms, for he heard approaching footsteps. Smiling 
at his childish weakness — for such he deemed it that he 
should have prayed — and yet content from his pious 
impulse, he turned his back on the sun, now quite risen, 
and stood face to face with Irene who called out to him: 

“ I was beginning to think that you had got out of 
patience and had gone away, when I found you no 
longer by the well. That distressed me — but you were 
only watching Helios rise. I see it every day, and yet 
it always grieves me to see it as red as it was to-day, 
for our Egyptian nurse used to tell me that when the 
east was very red in the morning it was because the 
Sun-god had slain his enemies, and it was their blood 
that colored the heavens, and the clouds and the hills.” 

“But you are a Greek,” said Lysias, “and you must 
know that it is Eos that causes these tints when she 
touches the horizon with her rosy fingers before Helios 
appears. Now to-day you are, to me, the rosy dawn 
presaging a fine day.” 

“ Such a ruddy glow as this,” said Irene, “ forebodes 
great heat, storms, and perhaps heavy rain, so the gate- 
keeper says; and he is always with the astrologers who 
observe the stars and the signs in the heavens from the 
towers near the temple-gates. He is poor little Philo’s 
father. I wanted to bring Klea with me, for she knows 


THE SISTERS. 


J 74 

more about our parents than I do; but he begged me 
not to call her away, for the child’s throat is almost 
closed up, and if it cries much the physician says it will 
choke, and yet it is never quiet but when it is lying in 
Klea’s arms. She is so good — and she never thinks of 
herself; she has been ever since midnight till now rock- 
ing that heavy child on her lap.” 

“We will talk with her presently,” said the Corin- 
thian. “But to-day it was for your sake that I came; 
you have such merry eyes, and your little mouth looks 
as if it were made for laughing, and not to sing lamen- 
tations. How' can you bear being always in that shut 
up dungeon with all those solemn men in their black 
and white robes ? ” 

“There are some very good and kind ones among 
them. I am most fond of old Krates, he looks gloomy 
enough at every one else; but with me only he jokes 
and talks, and he often shows me such pretty and ele- 
gantly wrought things.” 

“Ah! I told you just now you are like the rosy 
dawn before whom all darkness must vanish.” 

“ If only you could know how thoughtless I can be, 
and how often I give trouble to Klea, who never scolds 
me for it, you would be far from comparing me with a 
goddess. Little old Krates, too, often compares me to 
all sorts of pretty things, but that always sounds so 
comical that I cannot help laughing. I had much rather 
listen to you when you flatter me.” 

“ Because I am young and youth suits with youth. 
Your sister is older, and so much graver than you are. 
Have you never had a companion of your own age 
whom you could play with, and to whom you could tell 
everything ? ” 


THE SISTERS. 


*75 


“ Oh! yes when I was still very young; but since my 
parents fell into trouble, and we have lived here in the 
temple, I have always been alone with Klea. What do 
you want to know about my father?” 

“That I will ask you by-and-by k Now only tell me, 
have you never played at hide and seek with other 
girls ? May you never look on at the merry doings in 
the streets at the Dionysiac festivals? Have you ever 
ridden in a chariot?” 

“ I dare say I have, long ago — but I have forgotten 
it. How should I have any chance of such things here 
in the temple? Klea says it is no good even to think 
of them. She tells me a great deal about our parents — 
how my mother took care of us, and what my father 
used to say. Has anything happened that may turn 
out favorably for him? Is it possible that the king 
should have learned the truth? Make haste and ask 
your questions at once, for I have already been too long 
out here.” 

The impatient steeds neighed again as she spoke, 
and Lysias, to whom this chat with Irene was perfectly 
enchanting, but who nevertheless had not for a moment 
lost sight of his object, hastily pointed to the spot where 
his horses were standing, and said: 

“ Did you hear the neighing of those mettlesome 
horses ? They brought me hither, and I can guide them 
well; nay, at the last Isthmian games I won the crown 
with my own quadriga. You said you had never ridden 
standing in a chariot. How would you like to try for 
once how it feels? I will drive you with pleasure up 
and down behind the grove for a little while.” 

Irene heard this proposal with sparkling eyes and 
cried, as she clapped her hands: 


176 


THE SISTERS. 


“ May I ride in a chariot with spirited horses, like 
the queen? Oh! impossible! Where are your horses 
standing ?” 

In this instant she had forgotten Klea, the duty 
which called her back to the temple, even her parents, 
and she followed the Corinthian with winged steps, 
sprang into the two-wheeled chariot, and clung fast to 
the breastwork, as Lysias took his place by her side, 
seized the reins, and with a strong and practised hand 
curbed the mettle of his spirited steeds. 

She stood perfectly guileless and undoubting by his 
side, and wholly at his mercy as the chariot rattled off; 
but, unknown to herself, beneficent powers were shield- 
ing her with buckler and armor — her childlike inno- 
cence, and that memory of her parents which her 
tempter himself had revived in her mind, and which 
soon came back in vivid strength. 

Breathing deep with excitement, and filled with such 
rapture as a bird may feel when it first soars from its 
narrow nest high up into the ether she cried out again 
and again : 

“ Oh, this is delightful ! this is splendid ! ” and 
then — 

“ How we rush through the air as if we were swal- 
lows ! Faster, Lysias, faster! No, no — that is too fast; 
wait a little that I may not fall ! Oh, I am not fright- 
ened ; it is too delightful to cut through the air just as 
a Nile boat cuts through the stream in a storm, and to 
feel it on my face and neck.” 

Lysias was very close to her ; when, at her desire, he 
urged his horses to their utmost pace, and saw her sway, 
he involuntarily put out his hand to hold her by the gir- 
dle ; but Irene avoided his grasp, pressing close against 


THE SISTERS. 


177 


the side of the chariot next her, and every time he 
touched her she drew her arm close up to her 
body, shrinking together like the fragile leaf of a 
sensitive plant when it is touched by some foreign 
object. 

She now begged the Corinthian, to allow her to hold 
the reins for a little while, and he immediately acceded 
to her request, giving them into her hand, though, 
stepping behind her, he carefully kept the ends of them 
in his own. He could now see her shining hair, the 
graceful oval of her head, and her white throat eagerly 
bent forward ; an indescribable longing came over him 
to press a kiss on her head ; but he forbore, for he re- 
membered his friend’s words that he would fulfil the 
part of a guardian to these girls. He too would be a 
protector to her, aye and more than that, he would care 
for her as a father might. Still, as often as the chariot 
jolted over a stone, and he touched her to support her, 
the suppressed wish revived, and once when her hair was 
blown quite close to his lips he did indeed kiss it — but 
only as a friend or a brother might. Still, she must have 
felt the breath from his lips, for she turned round hastily, 
and gave him back the reins; then, pressing her hand to 
her brow, she said in a quite altered voice — not unmixed 
with a faint tone of regret : 

“ This is not right — please now to turn the horses 
round.” 

Lysias, instead of obeying her, pulled at the reins to 
urge the horses to a swifter pace, and before he could 
find a suitable answer, she had glanced up at the sun, 
and pointing to the east she exclaimed : 

“ How late it is already ! what shall I say if I have 
been looked for, and they ask me where I have been so 


i 7 8 


THE SISTERS. 


long ? Why don’t you turn round — nor ask me any- 
thing about my parents ? ” 

The last words broke from her with vehemence, and 
as Lysias did not immediately reply nor make any at- 
tempt to check the pace of the horses, she herself seized 
the reins exclaiming : 

“ Will you turn round or no ? ” 

“ No ! ” said the Greek with decision. “ But — ” 

“ And this is what you intended ! ” shrieked the girl, 
beside herself. “You meant to carry me off by strata- 
gem — but wait, only wait — ” 

And before Lysias could prevent her she had turned 
round, and was preparing to spring from the chariot as 
it rushed onwards ; but her companion was quicker than 
she ; he clutched first at her robe and then her girdle, 
put his arm round her waist, and in spite of her resist- 
ance pulled her back into the chariot. 

Trembling, stamping her little feet and with tears in 
her eyes, she strove to free her girdle from his grasp ; he, 
now bringing his horses to a stand-still, said kindly but 
earnestly : 

“What I have done is the best that could happen to 
you, and I will even turn the horses back again if you 
command it, but not till you have heard me ; for when 
I got you into the chariot by stratagem it was because I 
was afraid that you would refuse to accompany me, and 
yet I knew that every delay would expose you to the 
most hideous peril. I did not indeed take a base ad- 
vantage of your father’s name, for my friend Publius 
Scipio, who is very influential, intends to do everything 
in his power to procure his freedom and to reunite you 
to him. But, Irene, that could never have happened if 
I had left you where you have hitherto lived.” 


THE SISTERS. 


179 


During this discourse the girl had looked at Lysias 
in bewilderment, and she interrupted him with the ex- 
clamation : 

“ But I have never done any one an injury ! Who 
can gain any benefit by persecuting a poor creature like 
me ! ” 

“ Your father was the most righteous of men,” re- 
plied Lysias, “ and nevertheless he was carried off into 
torments like a criminal. It is not only the unrighteous 
and the wicked that are persecuted. Have you ever 
heard of King Euergetes, who, at his birth, was named 
the ‘well-doer,’ and who has earned that of the ‘evil- 
doer ’ by his crimes ? He has heard that you are fair, 
and he is about to demand of the high-priest that he 
should surrender you to him. If Asclepiodorus agrees 
— and what can he do against the might of a king — you 
will be made the companion of flute-playing jprls and 
painted women, who riot with drunken men at his 
wild carousals and orgies, and if your parents found you 
thus, better would it be for them — ” 

“Is it true, all you are telling me ? ” asked Irene 
with flaming cheeks. 

“Yes,” answered Lysias firmly. “Listen Irene — I* 
have a father and a dear mother and a sister, who is like 
you, and I swear to you by their heads —by those whose 
names never passed my lips in the presence of any other 
woman I ever sued to — that I am speaking the simple 
truth ; that I seek nothing but only to save you ; that 
if you desire it, as soon as I have hidden you I will 
never see you again, terribly hard as that would be to 
me — for I love you so dearly, so deeply — poor sweet 
little Irene — as you can never imagine.” 

Lysias took the girl’s hand, but she withdrew it 


THE SISTERS. 


180 

hastily, and raising her eyes, full of tears, to meet his 
she said clearly and firmly: 

“I believe you, for no man could speak like that 
and betray another. But how do you know all this? 
Where are you taking me? Will Klea follow me?” 

“At first you shall be concealed with the family of 
a worthy sculptor. We will let Klea know this very day 
of all that has happened to you, and when we have ob- 
tained the release of your parents then — but — Help us, 
protecting Zeus! Do you see the chariot yonder? I 
believe those are the white horses of the Eunuch Eu- 
laeus, and if he were to see us here, all would be lost! 
Hold tight, we must go as fast as in a chariot race. — 
There, now the hill hides us, and down there, by the 
little temple of Isis, the wife of your future host is 
already waiting for you; she is no doubt sitting in the 
closed chariot near the palm-trees. 

“Ye$, certainly, certainly, Klea shall hear all, so 
that she may not be uneasy about you! I must say 
farewell to you directly and then, afterwards, sweet 
Irene, will you sometimes think of the unhappy Lysias; 
or did Aurora, who greeted him this morning, so bright 
and full of happy promise, usher in a day not of joy but 
of sorrow and regret?” The Greek drew in rein as he 
spoke, bringing his horses to a sober pace, and looked 
tenderly in Irene’s eyes. She returned his gaze with 
heart-felt emotion, but her sunny glance was dimmed 
with tears. 

“Say something,” entreated the Greek. “Will you 
not forget me? And may I soon visit you in your 
new retreat?” 

Irene would so gladly have said yes — and yes 
again, a thousand times yes; and yet she, who was so 


THE SISTERS. 


181 

easily carried away by every little emotion of her heart, 
in this supreme moment found strength enough to 
snatch her hand from that of the Greek, who had again 
taken it, and to answer firmly : 

“I will remember you for ever and ever, but you 
must not come to see me till I am once more united to 
my Klea.” 

“ But Irene, consider, if now- — ” cried Lysias much 
agitated. 

“You swore to me by the heads of your nearest kin 
to obey my wishes,” interrupted the girl. “ Certainly I 
trust you, and all the more readily because you are so 
good to me, but I shall not do so any more if you do 
not keep your word. Look, here comes a lady to meet 
us who looks like a friend. She is already waving her 
hand to me. Yes, I will go with her gladly, and yet I 
am so anxious — so troubled, I cannot tell you — but I 
am so thankful too! Think of me sometimes, Lysias, 
and of our journey here, and of our talk, and of my 
parents. I entreat you, do for them all you possibly 
can. I wish I could help crying — but I cannot ! ” 


CHAPTER XV. 


Lysias’ eyes had not deceived him. The chariot 
with white horses which he had evaded during his flight 
with Irene belonged to Eulaeus. The morning being 
cool — and also because Cleopatra’s lady-in-waiting was 
with him — he had come out in a closed chariot, in 
which he sat on soft cushions side by side with the 


182 


THE SISTERS. 


Macedonian lady, endeavoring to win her good graces 
by a conversation, witty enough in its way. 

“On the way there,” thought he, “I will make her 
quite favorable to me, and on the way back I will talk 
to her of my own affairs.” 

The drive passed quickly and pleasantly for both, 
and they neither of them paid any heed to the sound 
of the hoofs of the horses that were bearing away Irene. 

Eulaeus dismounted behind the acacia-grove, and 
expressed a hope that Zoe would not find the time very 
long while he was engaged with the high-priest; per- 
haps indeed, he remarked, she might even make some 
use of the time by making advances to the representa- 
tive of Hebe. 

But Irene had been long since warmly welcomed in 
the house of Apollodorus, the sculptor, by the time they 
once more found themselves together in the chariot; 
Eulaeus feigning, and Zoe in reality feeling, extreme dis- 
satisfaction at all that had taken place in the temple. 
The high-priest had rejected Philometor’s demand that 
he should send the water-bearer to the palace on King 
Euergetes’ birthday, with a decisiveness which Eulaeus 
w r ould never have given him credit for, for he had on 
former occasions shown a disposition to measures of 
compromise; while Zoe had. not even seen the water- 
bearer. 

“ I fancy,” said the queen’s shrewd friend, “ that I 
followed you somewhat too late, and that when I en- 
tered the temple about half an hour after you — having 
been detained first by Imhotep, the old physician, 
and then by an assistant of Apollodorus, the sculptor, 
with some new busts of the philosophers — the high- 
priest had already given orders that the girl should be 


THE SISTERS. 1 83 

kept concealed; for when I asked to see her, I was 
conducted first to her miserable room, which seemed 
more fit for peasants or goats than for a Hebe, even for 
a sham one — but I found it perfectly deserted. 

“Then I was shown into the temple of Serapis, 
where a priest was instructing some girls in singing, and 
then sent hither and thither, till at last, finding no trace 
whatever of the famous Irene, I came to the dwelling- 
house of the gate-keeper of the temple. 

“ An ungainly woman opened the door, and said that 
Irene had been gone from thence for some long time, 
but that her elder sister was there, so I desired she 
might be fetched to speak with me. And what, if you 
please, was the answer I received? The goddess Klea 
— I call her so as being sister to a Hebe — had to nurse 
a sick child, and if I wanted to see her I might go in 
and find her. 

“The tone of the message quite conveyed that the 
distance from her down to me was as great as in fact it 
is the other way. However, I thought it worth the 
trouble to see this supercilious water-bearing girl, and 
I went into a low room — it makes me sick now to 
remember how it smelt of poverty— and there she sat 
with an idiotic child, dying on her lap. Everything that 
surrounded me was so revolting and dismal that it will 
haunt my dreams with terror for weeks to come and 
spoil all my cheerful hours. 

“ I did not remain long with these wretched crea- 
tures, but I must confess that if Irene is as like to Hebe 
as her elder sister is to Hera, Euergetes has good 
grounds for being angry if Asclepiodorus keeps the girl 
from him. 

“ Many a queen — and not least the one whom you 


184 


THE SISTERS. 


and I know so intimately — would willingly give half of 
her kingdom to possess such a figure and such a mien 
as this serving-girl. And then her eyes, as she looked 
at me when she rose with that little gasping corpse in 
her arms, and asked me what I wanted with her sister! 

“There was an impressive and lurid glow in those 
solemn eyes, which looked as if they had been taken 
out of some Medusa’s head to be set in her beautiful 
face. And there was a sinister threat in them too which 
seemed to say : ‘ Require nothing of her that I do not 
approve of, or you will be turned into stone on the 
spot.’ She did not answer twenty words to my ques- 
tions, and when I once more tasted the fresh air outside, 
which never seemed to me so pleasant as by contrast 
with that horrible hole, I had learnt no more than that 
no one knew — or chose to know — in what corner the 
fair Irene was hidden, and that I should do well to 
make no further enquiries. 

“And now, what wall Philometor do? What will 
you advise him to do ?” 

“What cannot be got at by soft words may some- 
times be obtained by a sufficiently large present,” re- 
plied Eulaeus. “You know very well that of all words 
none is less familiar to these gentry than the little word 
‘enough’; but who indeed is really ready to say it? 

“You speak of the haughtiness and the stern repel- 
lent demeanor of our Hebe’s sister. I have seen her 
too, and I think that her image might be set up in the 
Stoa as a happy impersonation of the severest virtue: 
and yet children generally resemble their parents, and 
her father was the veriest peculator and the most cun- 
ning rascal that ever came in my way, and was sent off 
to the gold-mines for very sufficient reasons. And for 


THE SISTERS. 


the sake of the daughter of a convicted criminal you 
have been driven through the dust and the scorching 
heat, and have had to submit to her scorn and contempt- 
uous airs, while I am threatened with grave peril on 
her account, for you know that Cleopatra’s latest whim 
is to do honor to the Roman, Publius Scipio; he, on 
the other hand, is running after our Hebe, and, having 
promised her that he will obtain an unqualified pardon 
for her father, he will do his utmost to throw the odium 
of his robbery upon me. 

“The queen is to give him audience this very day, 
and you cannot know how many enemies a man makes 
who, like me, has for many years been one of the lead- 
ing men of a great state. The king acknowledges, and 
with gratitude, all that I have done for him and for his 
mother; but if, at the moment when Publius Scipio 
accuses me, he is more in favor with her than ever, I 
am a lost man. 

“You are always with the queen; do you tell her 
who these girls are, and what motives the Roman has 
for loading me with their father’s crimes; and some 
opportunity must offer for doing you and your belong- 
ings some friendly office or another.” 

“What a shameless crew!” exclaimed Zoe. “De- 
pend upon it I will not be silent, for I always do what 
is just. I cannot bear seeing others suffering an injus- 
tice, and least of all that a man of your merit and dis- 
tinction should be wounded in his honor, because a 
haughty foreigner takes a fancy to a pretty little face 
and a conceited doll of a girl.” 

Zoe was in the right when she found the air stifling 
in the gate-keeper’s house, for poor Irene, unaccus- 
tomed to such an atmosphere, could no more endure it 

13 


THE SISTERS. 


1 86 

than the pretentious maid of honor. It cost even Klea 
an effort to remain in the wretched room, which served 
as the dwelling-place of the whole family; where the 
cooking was carried on at a smoky hearth, while, at 
night, it also sheltered a goat and a few fowls; but she 
had endured even severer trials than this for the sake 
of what she deemed right, and she was so fond of little 
Philo — her anxious care in arousing by degrees his 
slumbering intelligence had brought her so much sooth- 
ing satisfaction, and the child’s innocent gratitude had 
been so tender a reward — that she wholly forgot the 
repulsive surroundings as soon as she felt that her pres- 
ence and care were indispensable to the suffering little 
one. 

Imhotep, the most famous of the priest-physicians 
of the temple of Asclepius — a man who was as learned 
in Greek as in Egyptian medical lore, and who had 
been known by the name of “the modern Herophilus” 
since King Philometor had summoned him from Alex- 
andria to Memphis — had long since been watchful of 
the gradual development of the dormant intelligence of 
the gate-keeper’s child, whom he saw every day in his 
visits to the temple. Now, not long after Zoe had 
quitted the house, he came in to see the sick child for 
the third time. Klea was still holding the boy on her 
lap when he entered. On a wooden stool in front of 
her stood a brazier of charcoal, and on it a small cop- 
per kettle the physician had brought with him; to this 
a long tube was attached. The tube was in two parts, 
joined together by a leather joint, also tubular, in such 
a way that the upper portion could be turned in any 
direction. Klea from time to time applied it to the 
breast of the child, and, in obedience to Imhotep’s in- 


THE SISTERS. 187 

structions, made the little one inhale the steam that 
poured out of it. 

“ Has it had the soothing effect it ought to have ?” 
asked the physician. 

“Yes, indeed, I think so,” replied Klea, “There 
is not so much noise in the chest when the poor little 
fellow draws his breath.” 

The old man put his ear to the child’s mouth, laid 
his hand on his brow, and said: 

“ If the fever abates I hope for the best. This in- 
haling of steam is an excellent remedy for these severe 
catarrhs, and a venerable one besides; for in the oldest 
writings of Hermes we find it prescribed as an applica- 
tion in such cases. But now he has had enough of it. 

“Ah! this steam — this steam! Do you know that 
it is stronger than horses or oxen, or the united strength 
of a whole army of giants? That diligent enquirer 
Hero of Alexandria discovered this lately. 

“ But our little invalid has had enough of it, we 
must not overheat him. Now, take a linen cloth — that 
one will do though it is not very fine. Fold it together, 
wet it nicely with cold water — there is some in that 
miserable potsherd there — and now I will show you 
how to lay it on the child’s throat. 

“You need not assure me that you understand me, 
Klea, for you have hands — neat hands — and patience 
without end! Sixty-five years have I lived, and have 
always had good health, but I could almost wish to be 
ill for once, in order to be nursed by you. That poor 
child is well off — better than many a king’s child when 
it is sick; for him hireling nurses, no doubt, fetch and 
do all that is necessary, but one thing they cannot give, 
for they have it not; I mean the loving and indefati- 


1 88 


THE SISTERS. 


gable patience by which you have worked a miracle on 
this child’s mind, and are now working another on his 
body. Aye, aye, my girl ; it is to you and not me that 
this woman will owe her child if it is preserved to her. 
Do you hear me, woman ? and tell your husband so 
too; and if you do not reverence Klea as a goddess, 
and do not lay your hands beneath her feet, may you 
be — no — I will wish you no ill, for you have not too 
much of the good things of life as it is ! ” 

As he spoke the gate-keeper’s wife came timidly up 
to the physician and the sick child, pushed her rough 
and tangled hair off her forehead a little, crossed her 
lean arms at full length behind her back, and, looking 
down with out-stretched neck at the boy, stared in dumb 
amazement at the wet cloths. Then she timidly en- 
quired : 

“Are the evil spirits driven out of the child?” 

“Certainly,” replied the physician. “Klea there 
has exorcised them, and I have helped her; now you 
know.” 

“Then I may go out for a little while? I have to 
sweep the pavement of the forecourt.” 

Klea nodded assent, and when the woman had dis- 
appeared the physician said: 

“ How many evil demons we have to deal with, alas! 

• and how few good ones. Men are far more ready and 
willing to believe in mischievous spirits than in kind or 
helpful ones; for when things go ill with them — and it 
is generally their own fault when they do — it comforts 
them and flatters their vanity if only they can throw 
the blame on the shoulders of evil spirits; but when 
they are well to do, when fortune smiles on them or 
something important has proved successful, then, of 


THE SISTERS. 


189 


course, they like to ascribe it to themselves, to their 
own cleverness or their superior insight, and they laugh 
at those who admonish them of the gratitude they owe 
to the protecting and aiding demons. I, for my part, 
think more of the good than of the evil spirits, and you, 
my. child, without doubt are one of the very best. 

“You must change the compress every quarter of 
an hour, and between whiles go out into the open air, 
and let the fresh breezes fan your bosom — your cheeks 
look pale. At mid-day go to your own little room, and 
try to sleep. Nothing ought to be overdone, so you 
are to obey me.” 

Klea replied with a friendly and filial nod, and Im- 
hotep stroked down her hair; then he left; she remained 
alone in the stuffy hot room, which grew hotter every 
minute, while she changed the wet cloths for the sick 
child, and watched with delight the diminishing hoarse- 
ness and difficulty of his breathing. From time to time 
she was overcome by a slight drowsiness, and closed 
her eyes for a few minutes, but only for a short while; 
and this half-awake and half-asleep condition, chequered 
by fleeting dreams, and broken only by an easy and 
pleasing duty, this relaxation of the tension of mind and 
body, had a certain charm of which, through it all, she 
remained perfectly conscious. Here she was in her right 
place; the physicians kind words had done her good, 
and her anxiety for the little life she loved was now 
succeeded by a well-founded hope of its preserva- 
tion. 

During the night she had already come to a definite 
resolution, to explain to the high-priest that she could 
not undertake the office of the tw r in-sisters, who wept 
by the bier of Osiris, and that she would rather en- 


190 


THE SISTERS. 


deavor to earn bread by the labor of her hands for her- 
self and Irene — for that Irene should do any real work 
never entered her mind — at Alexandria, where even the 
blind and the maimed could find occupation. Even 
this prospect, which only yesterday had terrified her, 
began now to smile upon her, for it opened to her the 
possibility of proving independently the strong energy 
which she felt in herself. 

Now and then the figure of the Roman rose before 
her mind’s eye, and every time that this occurred she 
colored to her very forehead. But to-day she thought 
of this disturber of her peace differently from yesterday ; 
for yesterday she had felt herself overwhelmed by him 
with shame, while to-day it appeared to her as though 
she had triumphed over him at the procession, since 
she had steadily avoided his glance, and when he had 
dared to approach her she had resolutely turned her 
back upon him. This was well, for how could the 
proud foreigner expose himself again to such humili- 
ation. 

“Away, away — for ever away !” she murmured to 
herself, and her eyes and brow, which had been lighted 
up by a transient smile, once more assumed the expres- 
sion of repellent sternness which, the day before, had so 
startled and angered the Roman. Soon however the 
severity of her features relaxed, as she saw in fancy the 
young man’s beseeching look, and remembered the 
praise given him by the recluse, and as — in the middle 
of this train of thought — her eyes closed again, slumber 
once more falling upon her spirit for a few minutes, she 
saw in her dream Publius himself, who approached her 
with a firm step, took her in his arms like a child, held 
her wrists to stop her struggling hands, gathered her up 


THE SISTERS. 


191 

with rough force, and then flung her into a canoe lying 
at anchor by the bank of the Nile. 

She fought with all her might against this attack and 
seizure, screamed aloud with fury, and woke at the 
sound of her own voice. Then she got up, dried her 
eyes that were wet with tears, and, after laying a freshly 
wetted cloth on the child’s throat, she went out of doors 
in obedience to the physician’s advice. 

The sun was already at the meridian, and its direct 
rays were fiercely reflected from the slabs of yellow 
sandstone that paved the forecourt. On one side only 
of the wide, unroofed space, one of the colonnades that 
surrounded it threw a narrow shade, hardly a span wide; 
and she would not go there, for under it stood several 
beds on which lay pilgrims who, here in the very dwell- 
ing of the divinity, hoped to be visited with dreams 
which might give them an insight into futurity. 

Klea’s head was uncovered, and, fearing the heat 
of noon, she was about to return into the door-keeper’s 
house, when she saw a young white-robed scribe, em- 
ployed in the special service of Asclepiodorus, who came 
across the court beckoning eagerly to her. She went 
towards him, but before he had reached her he shouted 
out an enquiry whether her sister Irene was in the gate- 
keeper’s lodge ; the high-priest desired to speak with 
her, and she was nowhere to be found. Klea told him 
that a grand lady from the queen’s court had already en- 
quired for her, and that the last time she had seen her 
had been before daybreak, when she was going to 
fill the jars for the altar of the god at the Well of the 
Sun. 

“The water for the first libation,” answered the 
priest, “ was placed on the altar at the right time, but 


192 


THE SISTERS. 


Doris and her sister had to fetch it for the second and 
third. Asclepiodorus is angry — not with you, for he 
knows from Imhotep that you are taking care of a sick 
child — but with Irene. Try and think where she can 
be. Something serious must have occurred that the 
high-priest wishes to communicate to her.” 

Klea was startled, for she remembered Irene’s tears 
the evening before, and her cry of longing for happi- 
ness and freedom. Could it be that the thoughtless 
child had yielded to this longing, and escaped without 
her knowledge, though only for a few hours, to see the 
city and the gay life there ? 

She collected herself so as not to betray her anxiety 
to the messenger, and said with downcast eyes ; 

f< I will go and look for her.” 

She hurried back into the house, once more looked 
to the sick child, called his mother and showed her how 
to prepare the compresses, urging her to follow Imho- 
tep’s directions carefully and exactly till she should 
return ; she pressed one loving kiss on little Philo’s 
forehead — feeling as she did so that he was less hot than 
he had been in the morning— -and then she left, going 
first to her own dwelling. 

There everything stood or lay exactly as she had left 
it during the night, only the golden jars were wanting. 
This increased Klea’s alarm, but the thought that Irene 
should have taken the precious vessels with her, in order 
to sell them and to live on the proceeds, never once en- 
tered her mind, for her sister, she knew, though heedless 
and easily persuaded, was incapable of any base action. 

Where was she to seek the lost girl? Serapion, the 
recluse, to whom she first addressed herself, knew noth- 
ing of her. 


THE SISTERS. 


*93 


On the altar of Serapis, whither she next went, she 
found both the vessels, and carried them back to her 
room. 

Perhaps Irene had gone to see old Krates, and 
while watching his work and chattering to him, had for- 
gotten the flight of time — but no, the priest-smith, whom 
she sought in his workshop, knew nothing of the van- 
ished maiden. He would willingly have helped Klea 
to seek for his favorite, but the new lock for the tombs 
of the Apis had to be finished by mid-day, and his 
swollen feet were painful. 

Klea stood outside the old man’s door sunk in 
thought, and it occurred to her that Irene had often, in 
her idle hours, climbed/ up into the dove-cot belonging 
to the temple, to look out from thence over the distant 
landscape, to visit the sitting birds, to stuff food into 
the gaping beaks of the young ones, or to look up at 
the cloud of soaring doves. The pigeon-house, built up 
of clay pots and Nile-mud, stood on the top of the 
storehouse, which lay adjoining the southern boundary 
wall of the temple. 

She hastened across the sunny courts and slightly 
shaded alleys, and mounted to the flat roof of the store- 
house, but she found there neither the old dove-keeper 
nor his two grandsons who helped him in his work, for 
all three were in the anteroom to the kitchen, taking 
their dinner with the temple-servants. 

Klea .shouted her sister’s name ; once, twice, ten 
times — but no one answered. It was just as if the fierce 
heat of the sun burnt up the sound as it left her lips. 
She looked into the first pigeon-house, the second, 
the third, all the way to the last. The numberless little 
clay tenements of the brisk little birds threw out a glow 


194 


THE SISTERS. 


like a heated oven ; but this did not hinder her from 
hunting through every nook and comer. Her cheeks 
were burning, drops of perspiration stood on her brow, 
and she had much difficulty in freeing herself from the 
dust of the pigeon-houses, still she was not discouraged. 

Perhaps Irene had gone into the Anubidium, or 
sanctuary of Asclepius, to- enquire as to the meaning of 
some strange vision, for there, with the priestly physi- 
cians, lived also a priestess who could interpret the 
dreams of those who sought to be healed even better than 
a certain recluse who also could exercise that science. 
The enquirers often had to wait a long time outside the 
temple of Asclepius, and this consideration encouraged 
Klea, and made her insensible to the burning south- 
west wind which was now rising, and to the heat of the 
sun; still, as she returned to the Pastophorium — 
slowly, like a warrior returning from a defeat — she suf- 
fered severely from the heat, and her heart was wrung 
with anguish and suspense. 

Willingly would she have cried, and often heaved a 
groan that was more like a sob, but the solace of tears 
to relieve her heart was still denied to her. 

Before going to tell Asclepiodorus that her search 
had been unsuccessful, she felt prompted once more to 
talk with her friend, the anchorite; but before she had 
gone far enough even to see his cell, the high-priest’s 
scribe once more stood in her way, and desired her to 
follow him to- the temple. There she had to wait in 
mortal impatience for more than an hour in an ante- 
room. At last she was conducted into a room where 
Asclepiodorus was sitting with the whole chapter of the 
priesthood of the temple of Serapis. 

Klea entered timidly* and had to wait again some 


THE SISTERS. 


*95 


minutes in the presence of the mighty conclave before 
the high-priest asked her whether she could give any 
information as to the whereabouts of the fugitive, and 
whether she had heard or observed anything that could 
guide them on her track, since he, Asclepiodorus, knew 
that if Irene had run away secretly from the temple she 
must be as anxious about her as he was. 

Klea had much difficulty in finding words, and her 
knees shook as she began to speak, but she refused the 
seat which was brought for her by order of Asclepio- 
dorus. She recounted in order all the places where she 
had in vain sought her sister, and when she mentioned 
the sanctuary of Asclepius, and a recollection came 
suddenly and vividly before her of the figure of a lady 
of distinction, who had come there with a number of 
slaves and waiting-maids to have a dream interpreted, 
Zoe’s visit to herself flashed upon her memory; her de- 
meanor — at first so over-friendly and then so supercil- 
ious — and her haughty enquiries for Irene. 

She broke off in her narrative, and exclaimed: 

“ I am sure, holy father, that Irene has not fled of 
her own free impulse, but some one perhaps may have 
lured her into quitting the temple and me; she is still 
but a child with a wavering mind. Could it possibly 
be that a lady of rank should have decoyed her into 
going with her? Such a person came to-day to see 
me at the door-keeper’s lodge. She was richly dressed 
and wore a gold crescent in her light wavy hair, which 
was plaited with a silk ribband, and she asked me ur- 
gently about my sister. Imhotep, the physician, who 
often visits at the king’s palace, saw her too, and told 
me her name is Zoe, and that she is lady-in-waiting to 
Queen Cleopatra.” 


196 


THE SISTERS. 


These words occasioned the greatest excitement 
throughout the conclave of priests, and Asclepiodorus 
exclaimed : 

“Oh! women, women! You indeed were right, 
Philammon; I could not and would not believe it! 
Cleopatra has done many things which are forgiven 
only in a queen, but that she should become the tool 
of her brother’s basest passions, even you, Philammon, 
could hardly regard as likely, though you are always 
prepared to expect evil rather than good. But now, 
what is to be done? How can we protect ourselves 
against violence and superior force ? ” 

Klea had appeared before the priests with cheeks 
crimson and glowing from the noontide heat, but at 
the high-priest’s last words the blood left her face, she 
turned ashy-pale, and a chill shiver ran through her 
trembling limbs. Her father’s child — her bright, inno- 
cent Irene — basely stolen for Euergetes, that licentious 
tyrant of whose wild deeds Serapion had told her only 
last evening, when he painted the dangers that would 
threaten her and Irene if they should quit the shelter of 
the sanctuary. 

Alas, it was too true! They had tempted away 
her darling child, her comfort and delight, lured her 
with splendor and ease, only to sink her in shame! 
She was forced to cling to the back of the chair she had 
disdained, to save herself from falling. 

But this weakness overmastered her for a few min- 
utes only; she boldly took two hasty steps up to the 
table behind which the high-priest was sitting, and, sup- 
porting herself with her right hand upon it, she ex- 
claimed, while her voice, usually so full and sonorous, 
had a hoarse tone: 


THE SISTERS. 


*97 


“A woman has been the instrument of making an- 
other woman unworthy of the name of woman! and 
you — you, the protectors of right and virtue — you who 
are called to act according to the will and mind of the 
gods whom you serve — you are too weak to prevent it? 
If you endure this, if you do not put a stop to this crime 
you are not worthy — nay, I will not be interrupted — 
you, I say, are unworthy of the sacred title and of the 
reverence you claim, and I will appeal — ” 

“ Silence, girl ! ” cried Asclepiodorus to the terribly 
excited Klea. “ I would have you imprisoned with the 
blasphemers, if I did not well understand the anguish 
which has turned your brain. We will interfere on be- 
half of the abducted girl, and you must wait patiently 
in silence. You, Callimachus, must at once order Is- 
mael, the messenger, to saddle the horses, and ride to 
Memphis to deliver a despatch from me to the queen; 
let us all combine to compose it, and subscribe our 
names as soon as we are perfectly certain that Irene 
has been carried off from these precincts. Philammon, 
do you command that the gong be sounded which calls 
together all the inhabitants of the temple; and you, my 
girl, quit this hall, and join the others.” 


CHAPTER XVI. 

Klea obeyed the high-priest’s command at once, 
and wandered — not knowing exactly whither — from 
one corridor to another of the huge pile, till she was 
startled by the sound of the great brazen plate, struck 


198 


THE SISTERS. 


with mighty blows, which rang out to the remotest 
nook and corner of the precincts. This call was for her 
too, and she went forthwith into the great court of as- 
sembly, which at every moment grew fuller and fuller. 
The temple-servants and the keepers of the beasts, the 
gate-keepers, the litter-bearers, the water-carriers — all 
streamed in from their interrupted meal, some wiping 
their mouths as they hurried in, or still holding in their 
hands a piece of bread, a radish, or a date which they 
hastily munched; the washer-men and women came in 
with hands still wet from washing the white robes of the 
priests, and the cooks arrived with brows still streaming 
from their unfinished labors. Perfumes floated round 
from the unwashed hands of the pastophori, who had 
been busied in the laboratories in the preparation of in- 
cense, while from the library and writing-rooms came 
the curators and scribes and the officials of the temple 
counting-house, their hair in disorder, and their light 
working-dress stained with red or black. The troop of 
singers, male and female, came in orderly array, just as 
they had been assembled for practice, and with them 
came the faded twins to whom Klea and Irene had 
been designated as successors by Asclepiodorus. Then 
came the pupils of the temple-school, tumbling noisily 
into the court-yard in high delight at this interruption 
to their lessons. The eldest of these were sent to bring 
in the great canopy under which the heads of the estab- 
lishment might assemble. 

Last of all appeared Asclepiodorus, who handed to 
a young scribe a complete list of all the inhabitants and 
members of the temple, that he might read it out. This 
he proceeded to do; each one answered with an audible 
“Here” as his name was called, and for each one who 


THE SISTERS. 


1 99 


was absent information was immediately given as to his 
whereabouts. 

Klea had joined the singing-women, and awaited 
in breathless anxiety a long — endlessly long — time for 
the name of her sister to be called; for it was not till 
the very smallest of the school-boys and the lowest of 
the neat-herds had answered, “Here,” that the scribe 
read out, “ Klea, the water-bearer,” and nodded to her 
in answer as she replied “Here!” 

Then his voice seemed louder than before as he read, 
“Irene, the water-bearer.” 

No answer following on these words, a slight move- 
ment, like the bowing wave that flies over a ripe corn- 
field when the morning breeze sweeps across the ears, 
was evident among the assembled inhabitants of the 
temple, who waited in breathless silence till Asclepio- 
dorus stood forth, and said in a distinct and audible 
voice : 

“You have all met here now at my call. All have 
obeyed it excepting those holy men consecrated to 
Serapis, whose vows forbid their breaking their seclusion, 
and Irene, the water-bearer. Once more I call, ‘ Irene,’ 
a second, and a third time — and still no answer; I now 
appeal to you all assembled here, great and small, men 
and women who serve Serapis. Gan any one of you give 
any information as to the whereabouts of this young 
girl ? Has any one seen her since, at break of day, she 
placed the first libation from the Well of the Sun on the 
altar of the god? You are all silent! Then no one 
has met her in the course of this day? Now, one ques- 
tion more, and whoever can answer it stand forth and 
speak the words of truth. 

“ By which gate did this lady of rank depart who 


200 


THE SISTERS. 


visited the temple early this morning? — By the eastern 
gate — good. 

“Was she alone? — She was. 

“ By which gate did the epistolographer Eulaeus 
depart ? — By the east. 

“Was he alone? — He was. 

“ Did any one here present meet the chariot either 
of the lady or of Eulaeus ?” 

“ I did,” cried a car-driver, whose daily duty it was 
to go to Memphis with his oxen and cart to fetch pro- 
visions for the kitchen, and other necessaries. 

“Speak,” said the high-priest. 

“I saw,” replied the man, “the white horses of my 
Lord Eulaeus hard by the vineyard of Khakem; I know 
them well. They were harnessed to a closed chariot, 
in which besides himself sat a lady.” 

“ Was it Irene?” asked Asclepiodorus. 

“ I do not know,” replied the carter, “ for I could 
not see who sat in the chariot, but I heard the voice of 
Eulaeus, and then a woman’s laugh. She laughed so 
heartily that I had to screw my mouth up myself, it 
tickled me so.” 

While Klea supposed this description to apply to 
Irene’s merry laugh — which she had never thought of 
with regret till this moment — the high-priest exclaimed: 

“You, keeper of the eastern gate, did the lady and 
Eulaeus enter and leave this sanctuary together ? ” 

“No,” was the answer. “She came in half an hour 
later than he did, and she quitted the temple quite alone 
and long after the eunuch.” 

“And Irene did not pass through your gate, and 
cannot have gone out by it? — I ask you in the name 
of the god we serve!” 


THE SISTERS. 


201 


“She may have done so, holy father ” answered 
the gate-keeper in much alarm. “ I have a sick child, 
and to look after him I went into my room several 
times; but only for a few minutes at a time — still, the 
gate stands open, all is quiet in Memphis now.” 

“You have done very wrong,” said Asclepiodorus 
severely, “but since you have told the truth you may 
go unpunished. We have learned enough. All you 
gate-keepers now listen to me. Every gate of the tem- 
ple must be carefully shut, and no one — not even a pil- 
grim nor any dignitary from Memphis, however high a 
personage he may be — is to enter or go out without my 
express permission; be as alert as if you feared an at- 
tack, and now go each of you to his duties.” 

The assembly dispersed; these to one side, those to 
another. 

Klea did not perceive that many looked at her with 
suspicion as though she were responsible for her sister’s 
conduct, and others with compassion; she did not even 
notice the twin-sisters, whose place she and Irene were 
to have filled, and this hurt the feelings of the good 
elderly maidens, who had to perform so much lament- 
ing which they did not feel at all, that they eagerly 
seized every opportunity of expressing their feelings 
when, for once in a way, they were moved to sincere 
sorrow. But neither these sympathizing persons nor 
any other of the inhabitants of the temple, who ap- 
proached Klea with the purpose of questioning or of 
pitying her, dared to address her, so stern and terrible 
was the solemn expression of her eyes which she kept 
fixed upon the ground. 

At last she remained alone in the great court; her 
heart beat faster Khan usual, and strange and weighty 

14 


202 


THE SISTERS. 


thoughts were stirring in her soul. One thing was clear 
to her: Eulaeus — her father’s ruthless foe and destroyer — 
was now also working the fall of the child of the man he 
had ruined, and, though she knew it not, the high-priest 
shared her suspicions. She, Klea, was by no means 
minded to let this happen without an effort at defence, 
and it even became clearer and clearer to her mind that 
it was her duty to act, and without delay. In the first 
instance she would ask counsel of her friend Serapion; 
but as she approached his cell the gong was sounded 
which summoned the priests to service, and at the same 
time warned her of her duty of fetching water. 

Mechanically, and still thinking of nothing but 
Irene’s deliverance, she fulfilled the task which she was 
accustomed to perform every day at the sound of this 
brazen clang, and went to her room to fetch the golden 
jars of the god. 

As she entered the empty room her cat sprang to 
meet her with two leaps of joy, putting up her back, 
rubbing her soft head against her feet with her fine 
bushy tail ringed with black stripes set up straight, as 
cats are wont only when they are pleased. Klea was 
about to stroke the coaxing animal, but it sprang back, 
stared at her shyly, and, as she could not help thinking, 
angrily with its green eyes, and then shrank back into 
the corner close to Irene’s couch. 

“She mistook me!” thought Klea. “Irene is more 
lovable than I even to a beast, and Irene, Irene — ” 

She sighed deeply at the name, and would have 
sunk down on her trunk there to consider of new ways 
and means — all of which however she was forced to 
reject as foolish and impracticable — but on the chest 
lay a little shirt she had begun to make for little Philo, 


THE SISTERS. 


203 


and this reminded her again of the sick child and of the 
duty of fetching the water. 

Without further delay she took up the jars, and as 
she went towards the well she remembered the last pre- 
cepts that had been given her by her father, whom she 
had once been permitted to visit in prison. Only a 
few detached sentences of this, his last warning speech, 
now came into her mind, though no word of it had es- 
caped her memory; it ran much as follows: 

“ It may seem as though I had met with an evil rec- 
ompense from the gods for my conduct in adhering to 
what I think just and virtuous; but it only seems so, 
and so long as I succeed in living in accordance with 
nature, which obeys an everlasting law, no man is justi- 
fied in accusing me. My own peace of mind especially 
will never desert me so long as I do not set myself to 
act in opposition to the fundamental convictions of my 
inmost being, but obey the doctrines of Zeno and Chry- 
sippus. This peace every one may preserve, aye, even 
you, a woman, if you constantly do what you recognize 
to be right, and fulfil the duties you take upon your- 
self. The very god himself is proof and witness of this 
doctrine, for he grants to him who obeys him that tran- 
quillity of spirit which must be pleasing in his eyes, 
since it is the only condition of the soul in which it 
appears to be neither fettered and hindered nor tossed 
and driven; while he, on the contrary, who wanders 
from the paths of virtue and of her daughter, stern duty, 
never attains peace, but feels the torment of an unsatis- 
fied and hostile power, which with its hard grip drags 
his soul now on and now back. 

“ He who preserves a tranquil mind is not miserable, 
even in misfortune, and thankfully learns to feel con- 


204 


THE SISTERS. 


tented in every state of life; and that because he is 
filled with those elevated sentiments which are directly 
related to the noblest portion of his being — those, I 
mean — of justice and goodness. Act then, my child, 
in conformity with justice and duty, regardless of any 
ulterior object, without considering whether your action 
will bring you pleasure or pain, without fear of the 
judgment of men or the envy of the gods, and you will 
win that peace of mind which distinguishes the wise 
from the unwise, and may be happy even in adverse cir- 
cumstances; for the only real evil is the dominion of 
wickedness, that is to say the unreason which rebels 
against nature, and the only true happiness consists in 
the possession of virtue. He alone, however, can call 
virtue his who possesses it wholly, and sins not against 
it in the smallest particular; for there is no difference 
of degrees either in good or in evil, and even the small- 
est action opposed to duty, truth or justice, though 
punishable by no law, is a sin, and stands in opposition 
to virtue. 

“ Irene,” thus Philotas had concluded his injunctions, 
“cannot as yet understand this doctrine, but you are 
grave and have sense beyond your years. Repeat this 
to her daily, and when the time comes impress on your 
sister — towards whom you must fill the place of a 
mother — impress on her heart these precepts as your 
father’s last will and testament.” 

And now, as Klea went towards the well within the 
temple-wall to fetch water, she repeated to herself many 
of these injunctions; she felt herself encouraged by 
them, and firmly resolved not to give her sister up to 
the seducer without a struggle. 

As soon as the vessels for libation at the altar were 


THE SISTERS. 


205 


filled she returned to little Philo, whose state seemed to 
her to give no further cause for anxiety; after staying 
with him for more than an hour she left the gate-keep- 
er’s dwelling to seek Serapion’s advice, and to divulge 
to him all she had been able to plan and consider in 
the quiet of the sick-room. 

The recluse was wont to recognize her step from 
afar, and to be looking out for her from his window 
when she went to visit him; but to-day he heard her 
not, for he was stepping again and again up and down 
the few paces which the small size of his tiny cell al- 
lowed him to traverse. He could reflect best when he 
walked up and down, and he thought and thought 
again, for he had heard all that was known in the tem- 
ple regarding Irene’s disappearance; and he would, he 
must rescue her — but the more he tormented his brain 
the more clearly he saw that evey attempt to snatch the 
kidnapped girl from the powerful robber must in fact 
be vain. 

“And it must not, it shall not be!” he had cried, 
stamping his great foot, a few minutes before Klea 
reached his cell; but as soon as he was aware of her 
presence he made an effort to appear quite easy, and 
cried out with the vehemence which characterized him 
even in less momentous circumstances : 

“We must consider, we must reflect, we must puzzle 
our brains, for the gods have been napping this morn- 
ing, and we must be doubly wide-awake. Irene — our 
little Irene — and who would have thought it yesterday ! 
It is a good-for-nothing, unspeakably base knave’s 
trick — and now, what can we do to snatch the prey 
from the gluttonous monster, the savage wild beast, 
before he can devour our child, our pet little one? 


2o6 


THE SISTERS. 


Often and often I have been provoked at my own stu- 
pidity, but never, never have I felt so stupid, such a god- 
forsaken blockhead as I do now. When I try to con- 
sider I feel as if that heavy shutter had been nailed 
down on my head. Have you had any ideas ? I have 
not one which would not disgrace the veriest ass — not 
a single one.” 

“ Then you know everything ? ” asked Klea, “ even 
that it is probably our father’s enemy, Eulaeus, who has 
treacherously decoyed the poor child to go away with 
him ? ” 

“Yes, yes!” cried Serapion, “wherever there is 
some scoundrel’s trick to be played he must have a 
finger in the pie, as sure as there must be meal for bread 
to be made. But it is a new thing to me that on this 
occasion he should be Euergetes’ tool. Old Philam- 
mon told me all about it. Just now the messenger 
came back from Memphis, and brought a paltry scrap 
of papyrus on which some wretched scribbler had written 
in the name of Philometer, that nothing was known of 
Irene at court, and complaining deeply that Asclepio- 
dorus had not hesitated to play an underhand game with 
the king. So they have no idea whatever of voluntarily 
releasing our child.” 

“ Then I shall proceed to do my duty,” said Klea 
resolutely. “ I shall go to Memphis, and fetch my 
sister.” 

The anchorite stared at the girl in horror, exclaiming: 

“ That is folly, madness, suicide ! Do you want to 
throw two victims into his jaws instead of one ? ” 

“ I can protect myself, and as regards Irene, I will 
claim the queen’s assistance. She is a woman, and will 
never suffer — ” 


THE SISTERS. 


207 


“ What is there in this world that she will not suffer 
if it can procure her profit or pleasure ? Who knows 
what delightful thing Euergetes may not have promised 
her in return for our little maid ? No, by Serapis! — . 
no, Cleopatra will not help you, but — and that is a good 
idea — there is one who will to a certainty. We must 
apply to the Roman Publius Scipio, and he will have 
no difficulty in succeeding.” 

“From him,” exclaimed Klea, coloring scarlet, “ I 
will accept neither good nor evil ; I do not know him, 
and I do not want to know him.” 

“ Child, child ! ” interrupted the recluse with grave 
chiding. “ Does your pride then so far outweigh your 
love, your duty, and concern for Irene ? What, in the 
name of all the gods, has Publius done to you that you 
avoid him more anxiously than if he were covered with 
leprosy ? There is a limit to all things, and now — aye, 
indeed — I must out with it come what may, for this is 
not the time to pretend to be blind when I see with 
both eyes what is going on — your heart is full of the 
Roman, and draws you to him; but you are an honest 
girl, and, in order to remain so, you fly from him be- 
cause you distrust yourself, and do not know what 
might happen if he were to tell you that he too has 
been hit by one of Eros’ darts. You may turn red and 
white, and look at me as if I were your enemy, and talk- 
ing contemptible nonsense. I have seen many strange 
things, but I never saw any one before you who was a 
coward out of sheer courage, and yet of all the women 
I know there is not one to whom fear is less known 
than my bold and resolute Klea. The road is a hard 
one that you must take, but only cover your poor little 
heart with a coat of mail, and venture in all confidence to 


2o8 


THE SISTERS. 


meet the Roman, who is an excellent good fellow. No 
doubt it will be hard to you to crave a boon, but ought 
you to shrink from those few steps over sharp stones ? 
Our poor child is standing on the edge of the abyss; if 
you do not arrive at the right time, and speak the right 
words to the only person who is able to help in this 
matter, she will be thrust into the foul bog and sink in 
it, because her brave sister was frightened at — herself!” 

Klea had cast down her eyes as the anchorite ad- 
dressed her thus; she stood for some time frowning at 
the ground in silence, but at last she said, with quiver- 
ing lips and as gloomily as if she were pronouncing a 
sentence on herself : 

“ Then I will ask the Roman to assist me; but how 
can I get to him ? ” 

“ Ah ! — now my Klea is her father’s daughter once 
more,” answered Serapion, stretching out both his 
arms towards her from the little window of his cell ; 
and then he went on : “I can make the painful path 
somewhat smoother for you. My brother Glaucus, who 
is commander of the civic guard in the palace, you 
already know ; I will give you a few words of recom- 
mendation to him, and also, to lighten your task, a little 
letter to Publius Scipio, which shall contain a short ac- 
count :>f the matter in hand. If Publius wishes to speak 
with you yourself go to him and trust him, but still 
more trust yourself. 

“ Now go, and when you have once more filled the 
water-jars come back to me, and fetch the letters. The 
sooner you can go the better, for it would be well that 
you should leave the path through the desert behind 
you before nightfall, for in the dark there are often dan- 
gerous tramps about. You will find a friendly welcome 


THE SISTERS. 


209 


at my sister Leukippa’s ; she lives in the toll-house by 
the great harbor — show her this ring and she will give 
you a bed, and, if the gods are merciful, one for Irene 
too.” 

Thank you, father,” said Klea, but she said no 
more, and then left him with a rapid step. 

Serapion looked lovingly after her; then he took 
two wooden tablets faced with wax out of his chest, 
and, with a metal style, he wrote on one a short letter 
to his brother, and on the other a longer one to the 
Roman, which ran as follows : 

“ Serapion, the recluse of Serapis, to Publius Cor- 
nelius Scipio Nasica, the Roman. 

“ Serapion greets Publius Scipio, and acquaints him 
that Irene, the younger sister of Klea, the water-bearer, 
has disappeared from this temple, and, as Serapion sus- 
pects, by the wiles of the epistolographer Eulaeus, 
whom we both know, and who seems to have acted un- 
der the orders of King Ptolemy Euergetes. Seek to 
discover where Irene can be. Save her if thou canst 
from her ravishers, and conduct her back to this temple 
or deliver her in Memphis into the hands of my sister 
Leukippa, the wife of the overseer of the harbor, named 
Hipparchus, who dwells in the toll-house. May Serapis 
preserve thee and thine.” 

The recluse had just finished his letters when Klea 
returned to him. The girl hid them in the folds of the 
bosom of her robe, said farewell to her friend, and re- 
mained quite grave and collected, while Serapion, with 
tears in his eyes, stroked her hair, gave her his parting 
blessing, and finally even hung round her neck an amu- 
let for good luck, that his mother had worn — it was an 
eye in rock-crystal with a protective inscription. Then, 


210 


THE SISTERS. 


without any further delay, she set out towards the temple- 
gate, which, in obedience to the commands of the high- 
priest, was now locked. The gate-keeper — little Philo’s 
father — sat close by on a stone bench, keeping guard. 
In a friendly tone Klea asked him to open the gate; but 
the anxious official would not immediately comply with 
her request, but reminded her of Asclepiodorus’ strict 
injunctions, and informed her that the great Roman had 
demanded admission to the temple about three hours 
since, but had been refused by the high-priest’s special 
orders. He had asked too for her, and had promised 
to return on the morrow. 

The hot blood flew to Klea’s face and eyes as she 
heard this news. Could Publius no more cease to think 
of her than she of him? Had Serapion guessed rightly? 

“The darts of Eros” — the recluse’s phrase flashed 
through her mind, and struck her heart as if it were it- 
self a winged arrow; it frightened her and yet she liked 
it, but only for one brief instant, for the utmost distrust 
of her own weakness came over her again directly, and 
she told herself with a shudder that she was on the 
high-road to follow up and seek out the importunate 
stranger. 

All the horrors of her undertaking stood vividly be- 
fore her, and if she had now retraced her steps she would 
not have been without an excuse to offer to her own 
conscience, since the temple-gate was closed, and might 
not be opened to any one, not even to her. 

For a moment she felt a certain satisfaction in this 
flattering reflection, but as she thought again of Irene 
her resolve was once more confirmed, and going closer 
up to the gate-keeper she said with great determina- 
tion: 


THE SISTERS. 


2 1 1 


“Open the gate to me without delay; you know 
that I am not accustomed to do or to desire anything 
wrong. I beg of you to push back the bolt at once.” 

The man — to whom Klea had done many kind- 
nesses, and whom Imhotep had that very day told that 
she was the good spirit of his house, and that he ought 
to venerate her as a divinity — obeyed her orders, though 
with some doubt and hesitation. The heavy bolt flew 
back, the brazen gate opened, the water-bearer stepped 
out, flung a dark veil over her head, and set out on her 
walk. 


CHAPTER XVII. 


A paved road, with a row of Sphinxes on each 
side, led from the Greek temple of Serapis to the 
rock-hewn tombs of Apis, and the temples and 
chapels built over them, and near them; in these 
the Apis bull after its death — or “in Osiris” as 
the phrase went — was worshipped, while, so long as 
it lived, it was taken care of and prayed to in the 
temple to which it belonged, that of the god Ptah 
at Memphis. After death these sacred bulls, which 
were distinguished by peculiar marks, had extraordi- 
narily costly obsequies; they were called the risen Ptah, 
and regarded as the symbol of the soul of Osiris, by 
whose procreative power all that dies or passes away 
is brought to new birth and new life — the departed soul 
of man, the plant that has perished, and the heavenly 
bodies that have set. Osiris-Sokari, who was worship- 


212 


THE SISTERS. 


ped as the companion of Osiris, presided over the wan- 
derings which had to be performed by the seemingly 
extinct spirit before its resuscitation as another being in 
a new form; and Egyptian priests governed in the tem- 
ples of these gods, which were purely Egyptian in style, 
and which had been built at a very early date over the 
tomb-cave of the sacred bulls. And even the Greek 
ministers of Serapis, settled at Memphis, were ready to 
follow the example of their rulers and to sacrifice to 
Osiris-Apis, who was closely allied to Serapis — not only 
in name but in his essential attributes. Serapis himself 
indeed was a divinity introduced from Asia into the 
Nile valley by the Ptolemies, in order to supply to their 
Greek and Egyptian subjects alike an object of adora- 
tion, before whose altars they could unite in a common 
worship. They devoted themselves to the worship of 
Apis in Osiris at the shrines, of Greek architecture, and 
containing stone images of bulls, that stood outside the 
Egyptian sanctuary, and they were very ready to be 
initiated into the higher significance of his essence; 
indeed, all religious mysteries in their Greek home bore 
reference to the immortality of the soul and its fate in 
the other world. 

Just as two neighboring cities may be joined by a 
bridge, so the Greek temple of Serapis — to which the 
water-bearers belonged — was connected with the Egyp- 
tian sanctuary of Osiris-Apis by the fine paved road for 
processions along which Klea now rapidly proceeded. 
There was a shorter way to Memphis, but she chose 
this one, because the mounds of sand on each side of 
the road bordered by Sphinxes — which every day had 
to be cleared of the desert-drift — concealed her from the 
sight of her companions in the temple; besides the best 


THE SISTERS. 


213 


and safest way into the city was by a road leading from 
a crescent, decorated with busts of the philosophers, 
that lay near the principal entrance to the new Apis- 
tombs. 

She looked neither at the lion-bodies with men’s 
heads that guarded the way, nor at the images of beasts 
on the wall that shut it in; nor did she heed the dusky- 
hued temple-slaves of Osiris-Apis who were sweeping 
the sand from the paved way with large brooms, for 
she thought of nothing but Irene and the difficult task 
that lay before her, and she walked swiftly onwards with 
her eyes fixed on the ground. 

But she had taken no more than a few steps when 
she heard her name called quite close to her, and look- 
ing up in alarm she found herself standing opposite 
Krates, the little smith, who came close up to her, took 
hold of her veil, threw it back a little before she could 
prevent him, and asked: 

“ Where are you off to, child ? ” 

“Do not detain me,” entreated Klea. “You know 
that Irene, whom you are always so fond of, has been 
carried off; perhaps I may be able to save her, but if 
you betray me, and if they follow me — ” 

“I will not hinder you,” interrupted the old man. 
“Nay, if it were not for these swollen feet I would go 
with you, for I can think of nothing else but the poor 
dear little thing; but as it is I shall be glad enough 
when I am sitting still again in my workshop; it is ex- 
actly as if a workman of my own trade lived in each of 
my great toes, and was dancing round in them with 
hammer and file and chisel and nails. Very likely you 
may be so fortunate as to find your sister, for a crafty 
woman succeeds in many things which are too difficult 


214 


THE SISTERS. 


for a wise man. Go on, and if they seek for you old 
Krates will not betray you.” 

He nodded kindly at Klea, and had already half 
turned his back on her when he once more looked 
round, and called out to her: 

“ Wait a minute, girl — you can do me a little ser- 
vice. I have just fitted a new lock to the door of the 
Apis-tomb down there. It answers admirably, but the 
one key to it which I have made is not enough; we 
require four, and you shall order them for me of the 
locksmith Heri, to be sent the day after to-morrow; he 
lives opposite the gate of Sokari — to the left, next the 
bridge over the canal — you cannot miss it. I hate re- 
peating and copying as much as I like inventing and 
making new things, and Heri can work from a pattern 
just as well as I can. If it were not for my legs I would 
give the man my commission myself, for he who speaks 
by the lips of a go-between is often misunderstood or 
not understood at all.” 

“I will gladly save you the walk,” replied Klea, 
while the smith sat down on the pedestal of one of the 
Sphinxes, and opening the leather wallet which hung by 
his side shook out the contents. A few files, chisels, 
and nails fell out into his lap ; then the key, and finally 
a sharp, pointed knife with which Krates had cut out the 
hollow in the door for the insertion of the lock ; Krates 
touched up the pattern -key for the smith in Memphis 
with a few strokes of the file, and then, muttering 
thoughtfully and shaking his head doubtfully from side 
to side, he exclaimed: 

“You still must come with me once more to the 
door, for I require accurate workmanship from other 
people, and so I must be severe upon my own/’ 


THE SISTERS. 215 

“But I want so much to reach Memphis before 
dark,” besought Klea. 

“The whole thing will not take a minute, and if you- 
will give me your arm I shall go twice as fast. There 
are the files, there is the knife.” 

“ Give it me,” Klea requested. “ This blade is sharp 
and bright, and as soon as I saw it I felt as if it bid me 
take it with me. Very likely I may have to come 
through the desert alone at night.” 

“Aye,” said the smith, “and even the weakest feels 
stronger when he has a weapon. Hide the knife some- 
where about you, my child, only take care not to hurt 
yourself with it. Now let me take your arm, and on 
we will go — but not quite so fast.” 

Klea led the smith to the door he indicated, and 
saw with admiration how unfailingly the bolt sprang 
forward when one half of the door closed upon the 
other, and how easily the key pushed it back again; 
then, after conducting Krates back to the Sphinx near 
which she had met him, she went on her way at her 
quickest pace, for the sun was already very low, and it 
seemed scarcely possible to reach Memphis before it 
should set. 

As she approached a tavern where soldiers and low 
people were accustomed to resort, she was met by a 
drunken slave. She went on and past him without any 
fear, for the knife in her girdle, and on which she kept 
her hand, kept up her courage, and she felt as if she 
had thus acquired a third hand which was more power- 
ful and less timid than her own. A company of sol- 
diers had encamped in front of the tavern, and the wine 
of Khakem, which was grown close by, on the east- 
ern declivity of the Libyan range, had an excellent 


2l6 


THE SISTERS. 


savor. The men were in capital spirits, for at noon to- 
day — after they had been quartered here for months as 
guards of the tombs of Apis and of the temples of the 
Necropolis — a commanding officer of the Diadoches 
had arrived at Memphis, who had ordered them to 
break up at once, and to withdraw into the capital 
before nightfall. They were not to be relieved by other 
mercenaries till the next morning. 

All this Klea learned from a messenger from the 
Egyptian temple in the Necropolis, who recognized 
her, and who was going to Memphis, commissioned by 
the priests of Osiris- Apis and Sokari to convey a petition 
to the king, praying that fresh troops might be promptly 
sent to replace those now withdrawn. 

For some time she went on side by side with this 
messenger, but soon she found that she could not keep 
up with his hurried pace, and had to fall behind. In 
front of another tavern sat the officers of the troops, 
whose noisy mirth she had heard as she passed the for- 
mer one; they were sitting over their wine and looking 
on at the dancing of two Egyptian girls, who screeched 
like cackling hens over their mad leaps, and who so 
effectually riveted the attention of the spectators, who 
were beating time for them by clapping their hands, 
that Klea, accelerating her step, was able to slip unob- 
served past the wild crew. All these scenes, nay every- 
thing she met with on the high-road, scared the girl 
who was accustomed to the silence and the solemn life 
of the temple of Serapis, and she therefore struck into a 
side path that probably also led to the city which §he 
could already see lying before her with its pylons, its 
citadel and its houses, veiled in evening mist. In a 
quarter of an hour at most she would have crossed the 


THE SISTERS. 


2I 7 


desert, and reach the fertile meadow land, whose emer- 
ald hue grew darker and darker every moment. The 
sun was already sinking to rest behind the Libyan 
range, and soon after, for twilight is short in Egypt, 
she was wrapped in the darkness of night. The west- 
wind, which had begun to blow even at noon, now rose 
higher, and seemed to pursue her with its hot breath and 
the clouds of sand it carried with it from the desert. 

She must certainly be approaching water, for she 
heard the deep pipe of the bittern in the reeds, and fan- 
cied she breathed a moister air. A few steps more, and 
her foot sank in mud; and she now perceived that she 
was standing on the edge of a wide ditch in which tall 
papyrus-plants were growing. The side path she had 
struck into ended at this plantation, and there was 
nothing to be done but to turn about, and to continue 
her walk against the wind and with the sand blowing 
in her face. 

The light from the drinking-booth showed her the 
direction she must follow, for though the moon was up, 
it is true, black clouds swept across it, covering it and 
the smaller lights of heaven for many minutes at a time. 
Still she felt no fatigue, but the shouts of the men and 
the loud cries of the women that rang out from the 
tavern filled her with alarm and disgust. She made a 
wide circuit round the hostelry, wading through the 
sand hillocks and tearing her dress on the thorns and 
thistles that had boldly struck deep root in the desert, 
and had grown up there like the squalid brats in the 
hovel of a beggar. But still, as she hurried on by the 
high-road, the hideous laughter and the crowing mirth 
of the dancing- girls still rang in her mind’s ear. 

Her blood coursed more swiftly through her veins. 

15 


2 iS 


THE SISTERS. 


her head was on fire, she saw Irene close before her, 
tangibly distinct — with flowing hair and fluttering gar- 
ments, whirling in a wild dance like a Maenad at a Dio- 
nysiac festival, flying from one embrace to another and 
shouting and shrieking in unbridled folly like the 
wretched girls she had seen on her way. She was 
seized with terror for her sister — an unbounded dread 
such as she had never felt before, and as the wind was 
now once more behind her she let herself be driven on 
by it, lifting her feet in a swift run and flying, as if pur- 
sued by the Erinnyes, without once looking round her 
and wholly forgetful of the smith’s commission, on 
towards the city along the road planted with trees, 
which, as she knew led to the gate of the citadel. 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

In front of the gate of the king’s palace sat a crowd 
of petitioners who were accustomed to stay here from 
early dawn till late at night, until they were called into 
the palace to receive the answer to the petition they 
had drawn up. When Klea reached the end of her 
journey she was so exhausted and bewildered that she 
felt the imperative necessity of seeking rest and quiet 
reflection, so she seated herself among these people, 
next to a woman from Upper Egypt. But hardly had 
she taken her place by her with a silent greeting, when 
her talkative neighbor began to relate with particular 
minuteness why she had come to Memphis, and how 
certain unjust judges had conspired with her bad hus- 
band to trick her — for men were always ready to join 


THE SISTERS. 


219 


against a woman — and to deprive her of everything 
which had been secured to her and her children by her 
marriage-contract. For two months now, she said, she 
had been waiting early and late before the sublime 
gate, and was consuming her last ready cash in the city 
where living was so dear; but it was all one to her, 
and at a pinch she would sell even her gold ornaments, 
for sooner or later her cause must come before the 
king, and then the wicked villain and his accomplices 
would be taught what was just. 

Klea heard but little of this harangue; a feeling had 
come over her like that of a person who is having 
water poured again and again on the top of his head. 
Presently her neighbor observed that the new-comer 
was not listening at all to her complainings; she 
slapped her shoulder with her hand, and said: 

“You seem to think of nothing but your own con- 
cerns; and I dare say they are not of such a nature as 
that you should relate them to any one else; so far as 
mine are concerned the more they are discussed, the 
better.” 

The tone in which these remarks were made was so 
dry, and at the same time so sharp, that it hurt Klea, 
and she rose hastily to go closer to the gate. Her 
neighbor threw a cross word after her; but she did not 
heed it, and drawing her veil closer over her face, she 
went through the gate of the palace into a vast court- 
yard, brightly lighted up by cressets and torches, and 
crowded with foot-soldiers and mounted guards. 

The sentry at the gate perhaps had not observed 
her, or perhaps had let her pass unchallenged from her 
dignified and erect gait, and the numerous armed men 
through whom she now made her way seemed to be so 


220 


THE SISTERS. 


much occupied with their own affairs, that no one 
bestowed any notice on her. In a narrow alley, w r hich 
led to a second court and was lighted by lanterns, one 
of the body-guard known as Philobasilistes, a haughty 
young fellow in yellow riding-boots and a shirt of mail 
over his red tunic, came riding towards her on his tall 
horse, and noticing her he tried to squeeze her between 
his charger and the wall, and put out his hand to raise 
her veil; but Klea slipped aside, arid put up her hands 
to protect herself from the horse’s head which was 
almost touching her. 

The cavalier, enjoying her alarm, called out: 

“ Only stand still — he is not vicious.” 

“ Which, you or your horse ? ” asked Klea, with such 
a solemn tone in her deep voice that for an instant the 
young guardsman lost his self-possession, and this gave 
her time to go farther from the horse. But the girl’s 
sharp retort had annoyed the conceited young fellow, 
and not having time to follow her himself, he called out 
in a tone of encouragement to a party of mercenaries 
from Cyprus, whom the frightened girl was trying to 
pass : 

“ Look under this girl’s veil, comrades, and if she is as 
pretty as she is well-grown, I wish you joy of your prize.” 

He laughed as he pressed his knees against the 
flanks of his bay and trotted slowly away, while the 
Cypriotes gave Klea ample time to reach the second 
court, which was more brightly lighted even than the 
first, that they might there surround her with insolent 
importunity. 

The helpless and persecuted girl felt the blood run 
cold in her veins, and for a few minutes she could see 
nothing but a bewildering confusion of flashing eyes and 


THE SISTERS. 


221 


weapons, of beards and hands, could hear nothing but 
words and sounds, of which she understood and felt 
only that they were revolting and horrible, and threat- 
ened her with death and ruin. She had crossed her arms 
over her bosom, but now she raised her hands to hide 
her face, for she felt a strong hand snatch away the veil 
that covered her head. This insolent proceeding turned 
her numb horror to indignant rage, and, fixing her 
sparkling eyes on her bearded opponents, she ex- 
claimed : 

“ Shame upon you, who in the king’s own house fall 
like wolves on a defenceless woman, and in a peaceful 
spot snatch the veil from a young girl’s head. Your 
mothers would blush for you, and your sisters cry 
shame on you — as I do now ! ” 

Astonished at Klea’s distinguished beauty, startled 
at the angry glare in her eyes, and the deep chest-tones 
of her voice which trembled with excitement, the Cypri- 
otes drew back, while the same audacious rascal that 
had pulled away her veil came closer to her, and cried : 

“ Who would make such a noise about a rubbishy 
veil ! If you will be my sweetheart I will buy you a 
new one, and many things besides.” 

At the same time he tried to throw his arm round 
her ; but at his touch Klea felt the blood leave her 
cheeks and mount to her bloodshot eyes, and at that 
instant her hand, guided by some uncontrollable inward 
impulse, grasped the handle of the knife which Krates 
had lent her ; she raised it high in the air though with 
an unsteady arm, exclaiming : 

“ Let' me go or, by Serapis whom I serve, I will 
strike you to the heart ! ” 

The soldier to whom this threat was addressed, was 


222 


THE SISTERS. 


not the man to be intimidated by a blade of cold iron 
in a woman’s hand ; with a quick movement he seized 
her wrist in order to disarm her ; but although Klea 
was forced to drop the knife she struggled with him to 
free herself from his clutch, and this contest between a 
man and a woman, who seemed to be of superior rank 
to that indicated by her very simple dress, seemed to 
most of the Cypriotes so undignified, so much out of 
place within the walls of a palace, that they pulled their 
comrade back from Klea, while others on the contrary 
came to the assistance of the bully who defended him- 
self stoutly. And in the midst of the fray, which was 
conducted with no small noise, stood Klea with flying 
breath. Her antagonist, though flung to the ground, 
still held her wrist with his left hand while he defended 
himself against his comrades with the right, and she tried 
with all her force and cunning to withdraw it ; for at 
the very height of her excitement and danger she felt as 
if a sudden gust of wind had swept her spirit clear of all 
confusion, and she was again able to contemplate her 
position calmly and resolutely. 

If only her hand were free she might perhaps be able 
to take advantage of the struggle between her foes, and 
to force her way out between their ranks. 

Twice, thrice, four times, she tried to wrench her 
hand with a sudden jerk through the fingers that 
grasped it; but each time in vain. Suddenly, from the 
man at her feet there broke a loud, long-drawn cry of 
pain which re-echoed from the high walls of the court, 
and at the same time she felt the fingers of her antago- 
nist gradually and slowly slip from her arm like the 
straps of a sandal carefully lifted by the surgeon from a 
broken ankle. 


THE SISTERS. 


223 


“ It is all over with him ! ” exclaimed the eldest of the 
Cypriotes. “ A man never calls out like that but once 
in his life ! True enough — the dagger is sticking here 
just under the ninth rib ! This is mad work ! That is 
your doing again, Lykos, you savage wolf! ” 

“ He bit deep into my finger in the struggle — ” 

“And you are for ever tearing each other to pieces 
for the sake of the women,” interrupted the elder, not 
listening to the other’s excuses. “Well, I was no better 
than you in my time, and nothing can alter it ! You 
had better be off now, for if the Epistrategist learns we 
have fallen to stabbing each other again — ” 

The Cypriote had not ceased speaking, and his 
countrymen were in the very act of raising the body of 
their comrade when a division of the civic watch rushed 
into the court in close order and through the pas- 
sage near which the fight for the girl had arisen, thus 
stopping the way against those who were about to 
escape, since all who wished to get out of the court into 
the open street must pass through the doorway into 
which Klea had been forced by the horseman. Every 
other exit from this second court of the citadel led into 
the strictly guarded gardens and buildings of the palace 
itself. 

The noisy strife round Klea, and the cry of the 
wounded man had attracted the watch ; the Cypriotes 
and the maiden soon found themselves surrounded, and 
they were conducted through a narrow side passage 
into the court-yard of the prison. After a short enquiry 
the men who had been taken were allowed to return 
under an escort to their own phalanx, and Klea gladly 
followed the commander of the watch to a less brill- 
iantly illuminated part of the prison-yard, for in him 


224 


THE SISTERS. 


she had recognized at once Serapion’s brother Glaucus, 
and he in her the daughter of the man who had done 
and suffered so much for his father’s sake ; besides they 
had often exchanged greetings and a few words in the 
temple of Serapis. 

“ All that is in my power,” said Glaucus — a man 
somewhat taller but not so broadly built as his brother 
— when he had read the recluse’s note and when Klea 
had answered a number of questions, “ all that is in my 
power I will gladly do for you and your sister, for I do 
not forget all that I owe to your father; still I cannot but 
regret that you have incurred such risk, for it is always 
hazardous for a pretty young girl to venture into this 
palace at a late hour, and particularly just now, for the 
courts are swarming not only with Philometor’s fighting 
men but with those of his brother, who have come here 
for their sovereign’s birthday festival. The people have 
been liberally entertained, and the soldier who has been 
sacrificing to Dionysus seizes the gifts of Eros and 
Aphrodite wherever he may find them. I will at once 
take charge of my brother’s letter to the Roman Publius 
Cornelius Scipio, but when you have received . his 
answer you will do well to let yourself be escorted to 
my wife or my sister, who both live in the city, and to 
remain till to-morrow morning with one or the other. 
Here you cannot remain a minute unmolested while I 
am away — Where now — Aye ! The only safe shelter I 
can offer you is the prison down there ; the room where 
they lock up the subaltern officers when they have com- 
mitted any offence is quite unoccupied, and I will con- 
duct you thither. It is always kept clean, and there is 
a bench in it too.” 

Klea followed her friend who, as his hasty demeanor 


THE SISTERS. 


225 


plainly showed, had been interrupted in important busi- 
ness. In a few steps they reached the prison; she 
begged Glaucus to bring her the Roman’s answer as 
quickly as possible, declared herself quite ready to re- 
main in the dark — since she perceived that the light of 
a lamp might betray her, and she was not afraid of the 
dark — and suffered herself to be locked in. 

As she heard the iron bolt creak in its brass socket 
a shiver ran through her, and although the room in 
which she found herself was neither worse nor smaller 
than that in which she and her sister lived in the tem- 
ple, still it oppressed her, and she even felt as if an 
indescribable something hindered her breathing as she 
said to herself that she was locked in and no longer 
free to come and to go. A dim light penetrated into 
her prison through the single barred window that opened 
on to the court, and she could see a little bench of palm- 
branches on which she sat down to seek the repose she 
so sorely needed. All sense of discomfort gradually 
vanished before the new feeling of rest and refreshment, 
and pleasant hopes and anticipations were just begin- 
ning to mingle themselves with the remembrance of the 
horrors she had just experienced when suddenly there 
was a stir and a bustle just in front of the prison — 
and she could hear, outside, the clatter of harness and 
words of command. She rose from her seat and saw 
that about twenty horsemen, whose golden helmets and 
armor reflected the light of the lanterns, cleared the 
wide court by driving the men before them, as the 
flames drive the game from a fired hedge, and by forc- 
ing them into a second court from which again they 
proceeded to expel them. At least Klea could hear 
them shouting ‘In the king’s name’ there as they had 


226 


THE SISTERS. 


before done close to her. Presently the horsemen re- 
turned and placed themselves, ten and ten, as guards at 
each of the passages leading into the court. It was not 
without interest that Klea looked on at this scene which 
was perfectly new to her; and when one of the fine 
horses, dazzled by the light of the lanterns, turned res- 
tive and shied, leaping and rearing and threatening his 
rider with a fall — when the horseman checked and 
soothed it, and brought it to a stand-still — the Mace- 
donian warrior was transfigured in her eyes to Publius, 
who no doubt could manage a horse no less well than 
this man. 

No sooner was the court completely cleared of men 
by the mounted guard than a new incident claimed 
Klea’s attention. First she heard footsteps in the room 
adjoining her prison, then bright streaks of light fell 
through the cracks of the slight partition which divided 
her place of retreat from the other room, then the two 
window-openings close to hers were closed with heavy 
shutters, then seats or benches were dragged about and 
various objects were laid upon a table, and finally the 
door of the adjoining room was thrown open and slam- 
med to again so violently, that the door which closed 
hers and the bench near which she was standing trem- 
bled and jarred. 

At the same moment a deep sonorous voice called 
out with a loud and hearty shout of laughter : 

“ A mirror — give me a mirror, Eulaeus. By heaven! 
I do not look much like prison fare — more like a man in 
whose strong brain there is no lack of deep schemes, 
who can throttle his antagonist with a grip of his fist, 
and who is prompt to avail himself of all the spoil that 
comes in his way, so that he may compress the pleasures 


THE SISTERS. 


227 


of a whole day into every hour, and enjoy them to the 
utmost! As surely as my name is Euergetes my uncle 
Antiochus was right in liking to mix among the popu- 
lace. The splendid puppets who surround us kings, and 
cover every portion of their own bodies in wrappings 
and swaddling bands, also stifle the expression of every 
genuine sentiment; and it is enough to turn our brain 
to reflect that, if we would not be deceived, every word 
that we hear — and, oh dear! how many words we must 
needs hear — must be pondered in our minds. Now, the 
mob on the contrary — who think themselves beautifully 
dressed in a threadbare cloth hanging round their brown 
loins — are far better off. If one of them says to an- 
other of his own class — a naked wretch who wears 
about him everything he happens to possess — that he 
is a dog, he answers with a blow of his fist in the other’s 
face, and what can be plainer than that! If on the 
other hand he tells him he is a splendid fellow, he be- 
lieves it without reservation, and has a perfect right to 
believe it. 

“ Did you see how that stunted little fellow with a 
snub-nose and bandy-legs, who is as broad as he is long, 
showed all his teeth in a delighted grin when I praised 
his steady hand? He laughs just like a hyena, and 
every respectable father of a family looks on the fellow 
as a god-forsaken monster; but the immortals must 
think him worth something to have given him such 
magnificent grinders in his ugly mouth, and to have 
preserved him mercifully for fifty years — for that is 
about the rascal’s age. If that fellow’s dagger breaks 
he can kill his victim with those teeth, as a fox does a 
duck, or smash his bones with his fist.” 

“But, my lord,” replied Eulaeus dryly and with a 


228 


THE SISTERS. 


certain matter-of-fact gravity to King Euergetes — for he 
it was who had come with him into the room adjoining 
Klea’s retreat, “the dry little Egyptian with the thin 
straight hair is even more trustworthy and tougher and 
nimbler than his companion, and, so far, more estimable. 
One flings himself on his prey with a rush like a block 
of stone hurled from a roof, but the other, without being 
seen, strikes his poisoned fang into his flesh like an ad- 
der hidden in the sand. The third, on whom I had set 
great hopes, was beheaded the day before yesterday 
without my knowledge; but the pair whom you have 
condescended to inspect with your own eyes are suffi- 
cient. They must use neither dagger nor lance, but they 
will easily achieve their end with slings and hooks and 
poisoned needles, which leave wounds that resemble the 
sting of an adder. We may safely depend on these 
fellows.” 

Once more Euergetes laughed loudly, and ex- 
claimed : 

“What an elaborate criticism! Exactly as if these 
blood-hounds were tragic actors of which one could best 
produce his effects by fire and pathos, and the other by 
the subtlety of his conception. I call that an unprej- 
udiced judgment. And why should not a man be 
great even as a murderer? From what hangman’s 
noose did you drag out the neck of one, and from what 
headsman’s block did you rescue the other when you 
found them ? 

“ It is a lucky hour in which we first see something 
new to us, and, by Heracles! I never before in the 
whole course of my life saw such villains as these. I do 
not regret having gone to see them and talked to them 
as if I were their equal. Now, take this torn coat off 


THE SISTERS. 


229 


me, and help me to undress. Before I go to the feast 
I will take a hasty plunge in my bath, for I twitch in 
every limb, I feel as if I had got dirty in their com- 
pany. 

“There lie my clothes and my sandals; strap them 
on for me, and tell me as you do it how you lured the 
Roman into the toils.” 

Klea could hear every word of this frightful conver- 
sation, and clasped her hand over her brow with a 
shudder, for she found it difficult to believe in the 
reality of the hideous images that it brought before her 
mind. Was she awake or was she a prey to some 
horrid dream ? 

She hardly knew, and, indeed, she scarcely under- 
stood half of all she heard till the Roman’s name was 
mentioned. She felt as if the point of a thin, keen knife 
was being driven obliquely through her brain from 
right to left, as it now flashed through her mind that it 
was against him, against Publius, that the wild beasts, 
disguised in human form, were directed by Eulaeus, and 
face to face with this — the most hideous, the most in- 
credible of horrors — she suddenly recovered the full use 
of her senses. She softly slipped close to that rift in the 
partition through which the broadest beam of light fell 
into the room, put her ear close to it, and drank in, 
with fearful attention, word for word the report made 
by the eunuch to his iniquitous superior, who fre- 
quently interrupted him with remarks, words of ap- 
proval or a short laugh — drank them in, as a man 
perishing in the desert drinks the loathsome waters of a 
salt pool. 

And what she heard was indeed well fitted to de- 
prive her of her senses, but the more definite the facts 


230 


THE SISTERS. 


to which the words referred that she could overhear, 
the more keenly she listened, and the more resolutely 
she collected her thoughts. Eulaeus had used her own 
name to induce the Roman to keep an assignation at 
midnight in the desert close to the Apis-tombs. He 
repeated the words that he had written to this effect on 
a tile, and which requested Publius to come quite alone 
to the spot indicated, since she dare not speak with 
him in the temple. Finally he was invited to write his 
answer on the other side of the square of clay. As 
Klea heard these words, put into her own mouth by a 
villain, she could have sobbed aloud heartily with an- 
guish, shame, and rage; but the point now was to keep 
her ears wide open, for Euergetes asked his odious tool: 

“And what was the Roman’s answer?” Eulaeus 
must have handed the tile to the king, for he laughed 
loudly again, and cried out: 

“So he will walk into the trap — will arrive by half 
an hour after midnight at the latest, and greets Klea 
from her sister Irene. He carries on love-making and 
abduction wholesale, and buys water-bearers by the 
pair, like doves in the market or sandals in a shoe- 
maker’s stall. Only see how the simpleton writes Greek; 
in these few words there are two mistakes, two regular 
schoolboys’ blunders. 

“The fellow must have had a very pleasant day of 
it, since he must have been reckoning on a not unsuc- 
cessful evening — but the gods have an ugly habit of 
clenching the hand with which they have long caressed 
their favorites, and striking him with their fist. 

“Amalthea’s horn has been poured out on him to- 
day; first he snapped up, under my very nose, my little 
Hebe, the Irene of Irenes, whom I hope to-morrow to 


THE SISTERS. 


231 


inherit from him; then he got the gift of my best Cy- 
renaean horses, and at the same time the flattering 
assurance of my valuable friendship; then he had audi- 
ence of my fair sister — and it goes more to the heart of 
a republican than you would believe when crowned 
heads are graciously disposed towards him — finally 
the sister of his pretty sweetheart invites him to an 
assignation, and she, if you and Zoe speak the truth, is 
a beauty in the grand style. Now these are really too 
many good things for one inhabitant of this most 
stingily provided world; and in one single day too, 
which, once begun, is so soon ended; and justice re- 
quires that we should lend a helping hand to destiny, 
and cut off the head of this poppy that aspires to rise 
above its brethren; the thousands who have less good 
fortune than he would otherwise have great cause to 
complain of neglect.” 

“I am happy to see you in such good humor,” said 
Eulaeus. 

“ My humor is as may be,” interrupted the king. 
“ I believe I am only whistling a merry tune to keep up 
my spirits in the dark. If I were on more familiar 
terms with what other men call fear I should have am- 
ple reason to be afraid; for in the quail-fight we have 
gone in for I have wagered a crown — aye, and more 
than that even. To-morrow only will decide whether 
the game is lost or won, but I know already to-day 
that I would rather see my enterprise against Philome- 
tor fail, with all my hopes of the double crown, than 
our plot against the life of the Roman; for I was a 
man before I was a king, and a man I should remain, 
if my throne, which now indeed stands on only two 
legs, were to crash under my weight. 


“ 3 “ 


THE SISTERS. 


“ My sovereign dignity is but a robe, though the 
costliest, to be sure, of all garments. If forgiveness 
were any part of my nature I might easily forgive the 
man who should soil or injure that — but he who comes 
too near to Euergetes the man, who dares to touch this 
body, and the spirit it contains, or to cross it in its de- 
sires and purposes — him I will crush unhesitatingly to 
the earth, I will see him torn in pieces. Sentence is 
passed on the Roman, and if your ruffians do their 
duty, and if the gods accept the holocaust that I had 
slain before them at sunset for the success of my project, 
in a couple of hours Publius Cornelius Scipio will have 
bled to death. 

“ He is in a position to laugh at me — as a man — 
but I therefore — as a man — have the right, and — as a 
king — have the power, to make sure that that laugh 
shall be his last. If 1 could murder Rome as I can 
him how glad should I be ! for Rome alone hinders me 
from being the greatest of all the great kings of our 
time; and yet I shall rejoice to-morrow when they tell 
me ‘Publius Cornelius Scipio has been torn by wild 
beasts, and his body is so mutilated that his own mother 
could not recognize it * more than if a messenger were to 
bring me the news that Carthage had broken the power 
of Rome.” 

Euergetes had spoken the last words in a voice that 
sounded like the roll of thunder as it growls in a rapidly 
approaching storm, louder, deeper, and more furious 
each instant. When at last he was silent Eulaeus said: 

“The immortals, my lord, will not deny you this 
happiness. The brave fellows whom you condescended 
to see and to talk to strike as certainly as the bolt of 
our father Zeus, and as we have learned from the Ro- 


THE SISTERS. 


233 

man’s horse-keeper where he has hidden Irene, she will 
no more elude your grasp than the crowns of Upper 
and Lower Egypt. — Now, allow me to put on your 
mantle, and then to call the body-guard that they may 
escort you as you return to your residence.” 

“ One thing more,” cried the king, detaining Eulaeus. 
“There are always troops by the Tombs of Apis placed 
there to guard the sacred places; may not they prove 
a hindrance to your friends ? ” 

“I have withdrawn all the soldiers and armed guards 
to Memphis down to the last man,” replied Eulaeus, 
“and quartered them within the White Wall. Early to- 
morrow, before you proceed to business, they will be 
replaced by a stronger division, so that they may not 
prove a reinforcement to your brother’s troops here if 
things come to fighting.” 

“ I shall know how to reward your foresight,” said 
Euergetes as Eulaeus quitted the room. 

Again Klea heard a door open, and the sound of 
many hoofs on the pavement of the court-yard, and 
when she went, all trembling, up to the window, she 
saw Euergetes himself, and the powerfully knit horse 
that was led in for him. The tyrant twisted his hand 
in the mane of the restless and pawing steed, and Klea 
thought that the monstrous mass could never mount on 
to the horse’s back without the aid of many men ; but 
she was mistaken, for with a mighty spring the giant 
flung himself high in the air and on to the horse, and 
then, guiding his panting steed by the pressure of his 
knees alone, he bounded out of the prison-yard sur- 
rounded by his splendid train. 

For some minutes the court-yard remained empty, 
then a man hurriedly crossed it, unlocked the door of 
16 


234 


THE SISTERS. 


the room where Klea was, and informed her that he 
was a subaltern under Glaucus, and had brought her a 
message from him. 

“My lord,” said the veteran soldier to the girl, “bid 
me greet you, and says that he found neither the Roman 
Publius Scipio, nor his friend the Corinthian at home. 
He is prevented from coming to you himself; he has 
his hands full of business, for soldiers in the service of 
both the kings are quartered within the White Wall, and 
all sorts of squabbles break out between them. Still, 
you cannot remain in this room, for it will shortly be 
occupied by a party of young officers who began the 
fray. Glaucus proposes for your choice that you should 
either allow me to conduct you to his wife or return to 
the temple to which you are attached. In the latter 
case a chariot shall convey you as far as the second 
tavern in Khakem on the borders of the desert — for the 
city is full of drunken soldiery. There you may prob- 
ably find an escort if you explain to the host who you 
are. But the chariot must be back again in less than 
an hour, for it is one of the king’s, and when the ban- 
quet is over there may be a scarcity of chariots.” 

“Yes — I will go back to the place I came from,” 
said Klea eagerly, interrupting the messenger. “Take 
me at once to the chariot.” 

“Follow me, then,” said the old man. 

“ But I have no veil,” observed Klea, “ and have 
only this thin robe on. Rough soldiers snatched my 
wrapper from my face, and my cloak from off my 
shoulders.” 

“I will bring you the captain’s cloak which is lying 
here in the orderly’s room, and his travelling-hat too; 
that will hide your face with its broad flap. You are so 


THE SISTERS. 


235 


tall that you might be taken for a man, and that is well, 
for a woman leaving the palace at this hour would 
hardly pass unmolested. A slave shall fetch the things 
from your temple to-morrow. I may inform you that 
my master ordered me take as much care of you as if 
you were his own daughter. And he told me too — and 
I had nearly forgotten it — to tell you that your sister 
was carried off by the Roman, and not by that other 
dangerous man, you would know whom he meant. 
Now wait, pray, till I return; I shall not be long gone.” 

In a few minutes the guard returned with a large 
cloak in which he wrapped Klea, and a broad-brimmed 
travelling-hat which she pressed down on her head, and 
he then conducted her to that quarter of the palace 
where the king’s stables were. She kept close to the 
officer, and was soon mounted on a chariot, and then 
conducted by the driver — who took her for a young 
Macedonian noble, who was tempted out at night by 
some assignation — as far as the second tavern on the 
road back to the Serapeum. 


CHAPTER XIX. 

While Klea had been listening to the conversation 
between Euergetes and Eulaeus, Cleopatra had been 
sitting in her tent, and allowing herself to be dressed 
with no less care than on the preceding evening, but in 
other garments. 

It would seem that all had not gone so smoothly as 
she wished during the day, for her two tire-women 
had red eyes. Her lady-in-waiting, Zoe, was reading 


236 


THE SISTERS. 


to her, not this time from a Greek philosopher but from 
a Greek translation of the Hebrew Psalms: a discussion 
as to their poetic merit having arisen a few days pre- 
viously at the supper-table. Onias, the Israelite gen- 
eral, had asserted that these odes might be compared 
with those of Aleman or of Pindar, and had quoted cer- 
tain passages that had pleased the queen. To-day she 
was not disposed for thought, but wanted something 
strange and out of the common to distract her mind, so 
she desired Zoe to open the book of the Hebrews, of 
which the translation was considered by the Hellenic 
Jews in Alexandria as an admirable work — nay, even 
as inspired by God himself; it had long been known to 
her through her Israelite friends and guests. 

Cleopatra had been listening for about a quarter of 
an hour to Zoe’s reading when the blast of a trumpet 
rang out on the steps which led up her tent, announcing 
a visitor of the male sex. The queen glanced angrily 
round, signed to her lady to stop reading, and ex- 
claimed : 

“I will not see my husband now! Go, Thais, and 
tell the eunuchs on the steps, that I beg Philometor not 
to disturb me just now. Go on, Zoe.” 

Ten more psalms had been read, and a few verses 
repeated twice or thrice by Cleopatra’s desire, when the 
pretty Athenian returned with flaming cheeks, and said 
in an excited tone: 

“ It is not your husband, the king, but your brother 
Euergetes, who asks to speak with you.” 

“ He might have chosen some other hour,” replied 
Cleopatra, looking round at her maid. Thais cast down 
her eyes, and twitched the edge of her robe between her 
fingers as she addressed her mistress; but the queen, 


THE SISTERS. 


2 37 


whom nothing could escape that she chose to see, 
and who was not to-day in the humor for laughing or 
for letting any indiscretion escape unreproved, went on 
at once in an incensed and cutting tone, raising her 
voice to a sharp pitch: 

“ I do not choose that my messengers should allow 
themselves to be detained, be it by whom it may — do 
you hear! Leave me this instant and go to your room, 
and stay there till I want you to undress me this even- 
ing. Andromeda — do you hear, old woman ? — you can 
bring my brother to me, and he will let you return 
quicker than Thais, I fancy. You need not leer at your- 
self in the glass, you cannot do anything to alter your 
wrinkles. My head-dress is already done. Give me 
that linen wrapper, Olympias, and then he may come ! 
Why, there he is already! First you ask permission, 
brother, and then disdain to wait till it is given 
you.” 

“Longing and waiting,” replied Euergetes, “are but 
an ill-assorted couple. I wasted this evening with 
common soldiers and fawning flatterers; then, in order 
to see a few noble countenances, I went into the prison, 
after that I hastily took a bath, for the residence of your 
convicts spoils one’s complexion more, and in a less 
pleasant manner, than this little shrine, where every- 
thing looks and smells like Aphrodite’s tiring-room; 
and now I have a longing to hear a few good words 
before supper-time comes.” 

“From my lips?” asked Cleopatra. 

“ There are none that can speak better, whether by 
the Nile or the Ilissus.” 

“What do you want of me?” 

“ I — of you ? ” 


238 


THE SISTERS. 


“Certainly, for you do not speak so prettily unless 
you want something.” 

“But I have already told you! I want to hear you 
say something wise, something witty, something soul- 
stirring.” 

“We cannot call up wit as we would a maid-servant. 
It comes unbidden, and the more urgently we press it 
to appear the more certainly it remains away.” 

“That may be true of others, but not of you who, 
even while you declare that you have no store of Attic 
salt, are seasoning your speech with it. All yield 
obedience to grace and beauty, even wit and the 
sharp-tongued Momus who mocks even at the 
gods.” 

“You are mistaken, for not even my own waiting- 
maids return in proper time when I commission them 
with a message to you.” 

“And may we not to be allowed to sacrifice to the 
Charites on the way to the temple of Aphrodite ? ” 

“If I were indeed the goddess, those worshippers 
who regarded my hand-maidens as my equals would 
find small acceptance with me.” 

“Your reproof is perfectly just, for you are justified 
in requiring that all who know you should worship but 
one goddess, as the Jews do but one god. But I en- 
treat you do not again compare yourself to the brain- 
less Cyprian dame. You may be allowed to do so, so 
far as your grace is concerned ; but who ever saw an 
Aphrodite philosophizing and reading serious books? 
I have disturbed you in grave studies no doubt; what 
is the book you are rolling up, fair Zoe?” 

“The sacred book of the Jews, Sire,” replied Zoe; 
“one that I know you do not love.” 


THE SISTERS. 


239 


“And you — who read Homer, Pindar, Sophocles, 
and Plato — do you like it ? ” asked Euergetes. 

“ I find passages in it which show a profound knowl- 
edge of life, and others of which no one can dispute the 
high poetic flight,” replied Cleopatra. “ Much of it has 
no doubt a thoroughly barbarian twang, and it is par- 
ticularly in the Psalms — which we have now been read- 
ing, and which might be ranked with the finest hymens 
— that I miss the number and rhythm of the syllables, 
the observance of a fixed metre — in short, severity of 
form. David, the royal poet, was no less possessed by 
the divinity when he sang to his lyre than other poets 
have been, but he does not seem to have known that 
delight felt by our poets in overcoming the difficulties 
they have raised for themselves. The poet should slav- 
ishly obey the laws he lays down for himself of his own 
free-will, and subordinate to them every word, and yet 
his matter and his song should seem to float on a free 
and soaring wing. Now, even the original Hebrew 
text of the Psalms has no metrical laws.” 

“I could well dispense with them,” replied Euer- 
getes ; “ Plato too disdained to measure syllables, and 
I know passages in his works which are nevertheless 
full of the highest poetic beauty. Besides, it has been 
pointed out to me that even the Hebrew poems, like the 
Egyptian, follow certain rules, which however I might 
certainly call rhetorical rather than poetical. The first 
member in a series of ideas stands in antithesis to the 
next, which either re-states the former one in a new 
form or sets it in a clearer light by suggesting some 
contrast. Thus they avail themselves of the art of 
the orator — or indeed of the painter — who brings 
a light color into juxtaposition with a dark one,, in 


240 


THE SISTERS. 


order to increase its luminous effect. This method and 
style are indeed not amiss, and that was the least of all 
the things that filled me with aversion for this book, in 
which besides, there is many a proverb which may be 
pleasing to kings who desire to have submissive subjects, 
and to fathers who would bring up their sons in obedi- 
ence to themselves and to the laws. Even mothers 
must be greatly comforted by them, who ask no more 
than that their children may get through the world 
without being jostled or pushed, and unmolested if pos- 
sible, tli at they may live longer than the oaks or ravens, 
and be blessed with the greatest possible number of de- 
scendants. Aye ! these ordinances are indeed precious 
to those who accept them, for they save them the troub- 
le of thinking for themselves. Besides, the great god 
of the Jews is said to have dictated all that this book 
contains to its writers, just as I dictate to Philippus, my 
hump-backed secretary, all that I want said. They re- 
gard everyone as a blasphemer and desecrator who 
thinks that anything written in that roll is erroneous, or 
even merely human. Plato’s doctrines are not amiss, 
and yet Aristotle had criticised them severely and at- 
tempted to confute them. I myself incline to the views 
of the Stagyrite, you to those of the noble Athenian, and 
how many good and instructive hours we owe to our 
discussions over this difference of opinion ! And how 
amusing it is to listen when the Platonists on the one 
hand and the Aristotelians on the other, among the 
busy threshers of straw in the Museum at Alexandria, 
fall together by the ears so vehemently that they 
would both enjoy flinging their metal cups at 
each others’ heads — if the loss of the wine, which 
I pay for, were not too serious to bear. We still 


THE SISTERS. 


241 


seek for truth; the Jews believe they possess it en- 
tirely. 

“ Even those among them who most zealously study 
our philosophers believe this; and yet the writers of 
this book know of nothing but actual present, and their 
god — who will no more endure another god as his 
equal than a citizen’s wife will admit a second woman 
to her husband’s house — is said to have created the 
world out of nothing for no other purpose but to be 
worshipped and feared by its inhabitants. 

“ Now, given a philosophical Jew who knows his 
Empedocles — and I grant there are many such in 
Alexandria, extremely keen and cultivated men — what 
idea can he form in his own mind of 1 creation out of 
nothing ? ’ Must he not pause to think very seriously 
when he remembers the fundamental axiom that * out 
of nothing, nothing can come,’ and that nothing which 
has once existed can ever be completely annihilated ? 
At any rate the necessary deduction must be that the 
life of man ends in that nothingness whence everything 
in existence has proceeded. To live and to die according 
to this book is not highly profitable. I can easily rec- 
oncile myself to the idea of annihilation, as a man who 
knows how to value a dreamless sleep after a day brimful 
of enjoyment — as a man who if he must cease to be Eu- 
ergetes would rather spring into the open jaws of noth- 
ingness — but as a philosopher, no, never!” 

“You, it is true,” replied the queen, “cannot help 
measuring all and everything by the intellectual stand- 
ard exclusively ; for the gods, who endowed you with 
gifts beyond a thousand others, struck with blindness or 
deafness that organ which conveys to our minds any re- 
ligious or moral sentiment. If that could see or hear, 


242 


THE SISTERS. 


you could no more exclude the conviction that these 
writings are full of the deepest purport than I can, nor 
doubt that they have a powerful hold on the mind of 
the reader. 

“ They fetter their adherents to a fixed law, but they 
take all bitterness out of sorrow by teaching that a 
stern father sends us suffering which is represented as 
being sometimes a means of education, and sometimes 
a punishment for transgressing a hard and clearly de- 
fined law. Their god, in his infallible but stern wisdom, 
sets those who cling to him on an evil and stony path 
to prove their strength, and to let them at last reach the 
glorious goal which is revealed to them from the begin- 
ning.” 

“How strange such words as these sound in the 
mouth of a Greek,” interrupted Euergetes. “You cer- 
tainly must be repeating them after the son of the Jew- 
ish high-priest, who defends the cause of his cruel god 
with so much warmth and skill.” 

“ I should have thought,” retorted Cleopatra, “that 
this overwhelming figure of a god would have pleased 
you, of all men ; for I know of no weakness in you. 
Quite lately Dositheos, the Jewish centurion — a very 
learned man — tried to describe to my husband the one 
great god to whom his nation adheres with such obsti- 
nate fidelity, but I could not help thinking of our beau- 
tiful and happy gods as a gay company of amorous 
lords and pleasure-loving ladies, and comparing them 
with this stern and powerful being who, if only he chose 
to do it, might swallow them all up, as Chronos swal- 
lowed his own children.” 

“That,” exclaimed Euergetes, “ is exactly what most 
provokes me in this superstition. It crushes our light* 


THE SISTERS. 


243 


hearted pleasure in life, and whenever I have been read- 
ing the book of the Hebrews everything has come into 
my mind that I least like to think of. It is like an im- 
portunate creditor that reminds us of -our forgotten 
debts, and I love pleasure and hate an importunate 
reminder. And you, pretty one, life blooms for you — ” 

“ But I,” interrupted Cleopatra, “ can admire all 
that is great ; and does it not seem a bold and grand 
thing even to you, that the mighty idea that it is one 
single power that moves and fills the world, should be 
freely and openly declared in the sacred writings of the 
Jews — an idea which the Egyptians carefully wrap up 
and conceal, which the priests of the Nile only venture 
to divulge to the most privileged of those who are initi- 
ated into their mysteries, and which — though the Greek 
philosophers indeed have fearlessly uttered it — has 
never been introduced by any Hellene into the religion 
of the people ? If you were not so averse to the 
Hebrew nation, and if you, like my husband and my- 
self, had diligently occupied yourself with their concerns 
and their belief you would be juster to them and to 
their scriptures, and to the great creating and preserv- 
ing spirit, their god — ” 

“ You are confounding this jealous and most unami- 
able and ill-tempered tyrant of the universe with the 
Absolute of Aristotle ! ” cried Euergetes ; “ he stigma- 
tises most of what you and I and all rational Greeks 
require for the enjoyment of life as sin — sin upon sin. 
And yet if my easily persuadable brother governed at 
Alexandria, I believe the shrewd priests might succeed 
in stamping him as a worshipper of that magnified 
schoolmaster, who punishes his untutored brood with 
fire and torment.” 


244 


THE SISTERS. 


“I cannot deny,” replied Cleopatra, “that even to 
me the doctrine of the Jews has something very fear- 
ful in it, and that to adopt it seems to me tantamount 
to confiscating all the pleasures of life. — But enough of 
such things, which I should no more relish as a daily 
food than you do. Let us rejoice in that we are Hel- 
lenes, and let us now go to the banquet. I fear you 
have found a very unsatisfactory substitute for what 
you sought in coming up here.” 

“No — no. I feel strangely excited to-day, and my 
work with Aristarchus would have led to no issue. It 
is a pity that we should have begun to talk of that bar- 
barian rubbish ; there are so many other subjects more 
pleasing and more cheering to the mind. Do you re- 
member how we used to read the great tragedians and 
Plato together? ” 

“And how you would often interrupt our tutor 
Agatharchides in his lectures on geography, to point 
out some mistake ! Did you prosecute those studies in 
Cyrene ? ” 

“Of course. It really is a pity, Cleopatra, that we 
should no longer live together as we did formerly. 
There is no one, not even Aristarchus, with whom I 
find it more pleasant and profitable to converse and 
discuss than with you. If only you had lived at Athens 
in the time of Pericles, who knows if you might not 
have been his friend instead of the immortal Aspasia. 
This Memphis is certainly not the right place for you; 
for a few months in the year you ought to come to 
Alexandria, which has now risen to be superior to 
Athens.” 

“I do not know you to-day!” exclaimed Cleopatra, 
gazing at her brother in astonishment. “ I have never 


THE SISTERS. 


*45 


heard you speak so kindly and brotherly since the death 
of my mother. You must have some great request to 
make of us.” 

“You see how thankless a thing it is for me to let 
my heart speak for once, like other people. I am like 
the boy in the fable when the wolf came! I have so 
often behaved in an unbrotherly fashion that when I 
show the aspect of a brother you think I have put on a 
mask. If I had had anything special to ask of you I 
should have waited till to-morrow, for in this part of 
the country even a blind beggar does not like to refuse 
his lame comrade anything on his birthday.” 

“If only we knew what you wish for! Philometor 
and I would do it more than gladly, although you 
always want something monstrous. Our performance 
to-morrow will at any rate — but — Zoe, pray be good 
enough to retire with the maids; I have a few words to 
say to my brother alone.” 

As soon as the queen’s ladies had withdrawn, she 
went on: 

“ It is a real grief to me, but the best part of the festi- 
val in honor of your birthday will not be particularly 
successful, for the priests of Serapis spitefully refuse us 
the Hebe about whom Lysias has made us so curious. 
Asclepiodorus, it would seem, keeps her in concealment, 
and carries his audacity so far as to tell us that some one 
has carried her off from the temple. He insinuates that 
we have stolen her, and demands her restitution in the 
name of all his associates.” 

“You are doing the man an injustice; our dove has 
followed the lure of a dove-catcher who will not allow 
me to have her, and who is now billing and cooing with 
her in his own nest. I am cheated, but I can scarcely 


246 


THE SISTERS. 


be angry with the Roman, for his claim was of older 
standing than mine.” 

“ The Roman ? ” asked Cleopatra, rising from her 
seat and turning pale. “But that is impossible. You 
are making common cause with Eulaeus, and want to 
set me against Publius Scipio. At the banquet last night 
you showed plainly enough your ill-feeling against him.” 

“You seem to feel more warmly towards him. But 
before I prove to you that I am neither lying nor joking, 
may I enquire what has this man, this many-named 
Publius Cornelius Scipio Nasica, to recommend him 
above any handsome well-grown Macedonian, who is 
resolute in my cause, in the whole corps of your body- 
guard, excepting his patrician pride? He is as bitter 
and ungenial as a sour apple, and all the very best that 
you — a subtle thinker, a brilliant and cultivated philoso- 
pher — can find to say is no more appreciated by his 
meanly cultivated intellect than the odes of Sappho by 
a Nubian boatman.” 

“ It is exactly for that,” cried the queen, “that I value 
him ; he is different from all of us ; we who — how shall 
I express myself — who always think at second-hand, and 
always set our foot in the rut trodden by the master of 
the school we adhere to; who squeeze our minds into 
the moulds that others have carved out, and when we 
speak hesitate to step beyond the outlines of those figures 
of rhetoric which we learned at school! You have burst 
these bonds, but even your mighty spirit still shows 
traces of them. Publius Scipio, on the contrary, thinks 
and sees and speaks with perfect independence, and his 
upright sense guides him to the truth without any 
trouble or special training. His society revives me like 
the fresh air that I breathe when I come out into the 


THE SISTERS. 


247 


open air from the temple filled with the smoke of in- 
cense — like the milk and bread which a peasant offered 
us during our late excursion to the coast, after we had 
been living for a year on nothing but dainties.” 

“ He has all the admirable characteristics of a child!” 
interrupted Euergetes. “And if that is all that appears 
estimable to you in the Roman your son may soon re- 
place the great Cornelius.” 

“Not soon! no, not till he shall have grown older 
than you are, and a man, a thorough man, from the 
crown of his head to the sole of his foot, for such a man 
is Publius! I believe — nay, I am sure — that he is in- 
capable of any mean action, that he could not be false 
in word or even in look, nor feign a sentiment he did 
not feel.” 

“Why so vehement, sister? So much zeal is quite 
unnecessary on this occasion! You know well enough 
that I have my easy days, and that this excitement is 
not good for you ; nor has the Roman deserved that you 
should be quite beside yourself for his sake. The fellow 
dared in my presence to look at you as Paris might at 
Helen before he carried her off, and to drink out of your 
cup; and this morning he no doubt did not contradict 
what he conveyed to you last night with his eyes — nay, 
perhaps by his words. And yet, scarcely an hour before, 
he had been to the Necropolis to bear his sweetheart 
away from the temple of the gloomy Serapis into that of 
the smiling Eros.” 

“You shall prove this!” cried the queen in great ex- 
citement. “ Publius is my friend — ” 

“And I am yours!” 

“You have often proved the reverse, and now again 
with lies and cheating — ” 


248 


THE SISTERS. 


“You seem,” interrupted Euergetes, “to have 
learned from your unphilosophical favorite to express 
your indignation with extraordinary frankness; to-day 
however I am, as I have said, as gentle as a kitten — ” 

“ Euergetes and gentleness ! ” cried Cleopatra with a 
forced laugh. “ No, you only step softly like a cat when 
she is watching a bird, and your gentleness covers some 
ruthless scheme, which we shall find out soon enough 
to our cost. Y ou have been talking with Eulaeus to-day ; 
Eulaeus, who fears and hates Publius, and it seems to 
me that you have hatched some conspiracy against him ; 
but if you dare to cast a single stone in his path, to 
touch a single hair of his head, I will show you that 
even a weak woman can be terrible. Nemesis and the 
Erinnyes from Alecto to Megaera, the most terrible of 
all the gods, are women ! ” 

Cleopatra had hissed rather than spoken these words, 
with her teeth set with rage, and had raised her small 
fist to threaten her brother; but Euergetes preserved a 
•perfect composure till she had ceased speaking. Then 
he took a step closer to her, crossed his arms over his 
breast, and asked her in the deepest bass of his fine 
deep voice: 

“ Are you idiotically in love with this Publius Cor- 
nelius Scipio Nasica, or do you purpose to make use of 
him and his kith and kin in Rome against me ? ” 

Transported with rage, and without blenching in the, 
least at her brother’s piercing gaze, she hastily retorted : 

“Up to this moment only the first perhaps — for what 
is my husband to me? But if you go on as you have 
begun I shall begin to consider how I may make use of 
his influence and of his liking for me, on the shores of 
the Tiber.” 


THE SISTERS. 


249 


“Liking!” cried Euergetes, and he laughed so loud 
and violently that Zoe, who was listening at the tent- 
door, gave a little scream, and Cleopatra drew back a 
step. “And to think that you — the most prudent of the 
prudent — who can hear the dew fall and the grass grow, 
and smell here in Memphis the smoke of every fire that 
is lighted in Alexandria or in Syria or even in Rome — 
that you, my mother’s daughter, should be caught over 
head and ears by a broad-shouldered lout, for all the 
world like a clumsy town-girl or a wench at a loom. 
This ignorant Adonis, who knows so well how to make 
use of his own strange and resolute personality, and of 
the power that stands in his background, thinks no more 
of the hearts he sets in flames than I of the earthen jar 
out of which water is drawn when I am thirsty. You 
think to make use of him by the Tiber; but he has an- 
ticipated you, and learns from you all that is going on 
by the Nile and everything they most want to know in 
the Senate. 

“You do not believe me, for no one ever is ready to 
believe anything that can diminish his self-esteem — and 
why should you believe me? I frankly confess that I 
do not hesitate to lie when I hope to gain more by un- 
truth than by that much-belauded and divine truth, 
which, according to your favorite Plato, is allied to all 
earthly beauty; but it is often just as useless as beauty 
itself, for the useful and the beautiful exclude each other 
in a thousand cases, for ten when they coincide. There, 
the gong is sounding for the third time. If you care for 
plain proof that the Roman, only an hour before he 
visited you this morning, had our little Hebe carried off 
from the temple, and conveyed to the house of Apollo- 
dorus, the sculptor, at Memphis, you have only to come 

17 


25 ° 


THE SISTERS. 


to see me in my rooms early to-morrow after the first 
morning sacrifice. You will at any rate wish to come 
and congratulate me; bring your children with you, as I 
propose making them presents. You might even ques- 
tion the Roman himself at the banquet to-day, but he 
will hardly appear, for the sweetest gifts of Eros are 
bestowed at night, and as the temple of Serapis is closed 
at sunset Publius has never yet seen his Irene in the 
evening. May I expect you and the children after 
morning sacrifice?” 

Before Cleopatra had time to answer this question 
another trumpet-blast was heard, and she exclaimed: 

“ That is Philometor, come to fetch us to the ban- 
quet. I will ere long give the Roman the opportunity 
of defending himself, though — in spite of your accusa- 
tions — I trust him entirely. This morning I asked him 
solemnly whether it was true that he was in love with 
his friend’s charming Hebe, and he denied it in his 
firm and manly way, and his replies were admirable 
and worthy of the noblest mind, when I ventured to 
doubt his sincerity. He takes truth more seriously 
than you do. He regards it not only as beautiful and 
right to be truthful, he says, but as prudent too; for lies, 
can only procure us a small short-lived advantage, as 
transitory as the mists of night which vanish as soon as 
the sun appears, while truth is like the sunlight itself, 
which as often as it is dimmed by clouds reappears 
again and again. And, he says, what makes a liar so 
particularly contemptible in his eyes is, that to attain his 
end, he must be constantly declaring and repeating the 
horror he has of those who are and do the very same 
thing as he himself. The ruler of a state cannot always 
be truthful, and I often have failed in truth; but my in- 


THE SISTERS. 


251 

tercourse with Publius has aroused much that is good 
in me, and which had been slumbering with closed 
eyes; and if this man should prove to be the same as 
all the rest of you, then I will follow your road, Euer- 
getes, and laugh at virtue and truth, and set the busts 
of Aristippus and Strato on the pedestals where those of 
Zeno and Antisthenes now stand.” 

“You mean to have the busts of the philosophers 
moved again?” asked King Philometor, who, as he 
entered the tent, had heard the queen’s last words. 
“And Aristippus is to have the place of honor? I have 
no objection — though he teaches that man must subju- 
gate matter and not become subject to it.* This indeed 
is easier to say than to do, and there is no man to whom 
it is more impossible than to a king who has to keep on 
good terms with Greeks and Egyptians, as we have, and 
with Rome as well. And besides all this to avoid quar- 
relling with a jealous brother, who shares our kingdom! 
If men could only know how much they would have to 
do as kings only in reading and writing, they would 
take care never to struggle for a crown! Up to this last 
half hour I have been examining and deciding applica- 
tions and petitions. Have you got through yours, Euer- 
getes ? Even more had accumulated for you than for us.” 

“All were settled in an hour,” replied the other 
promptly. “ My eye is quicker than the mouth of your 
reader, and my decisions commonly consist of three 
words while you dictate long treatises to your scribes. 
So I had done when you had scarcely begun, and yet I 
could tell you at once, if it were not too tedious a mat- 
ter, every single case that has come before me for 
months, and explain it in all its details.” 


* “ Mihi res, non me rebus subjungerc.” 


2 5 2 


THE SISTERS. 


“That I could not indeed,” said Philometor mod- 
estly, “but I know and admire your swift intelligence 
and accurate memory.” 

“You see I am more fit for a king than you are;” 
laughed Euergetes. “You are too gentle and debo- 
nair for a throne! Hand over your government to me. 
I will fill your treasury every year with gold. I beg 
you now, come to Alexandria with Cleopatra for good, 
and share with me the palace and the gardens in the 
Bruchion. I will nominate your little Philopator heir 
to the throne, for I have no wish to contract a perma- 
nent tie with any woman, as Clelopatra belongs to you. 
This is a bold proposal, but reflect, Philometor, if you 
were to accept it, how much time it would give you for 
your music, your disputations with the Jews, and all 
your other favorite occupations.” 

“You never know how far you may go with your 
jests!” interrupted Cleopatra. “Besides, you devote 
quite as much time to your studies in philology and 
natural history as he does to music and improving con- 
versations with his learned friends.” 

“Just so,” assented Philometor, “and you may be 
counted among the sages of the Museum with far more 
reason than I.” 

“But the difference between us,” replied Euergetes, 
“is that I despise all the philosophical prattlers and 
rubbish-collectors in Alexandria almost to the point of 
hating them, while for science I have as great a passion 
as for a lover. You, on the contrary, make much of 
the learned men, but trouble yourself precious little 
about science.” 

“ Drop the subject, pray,” begged Cleopatra. “ I 
believe that you two have never yet been together for 


THE SISTERS. 


253 


half an hour without Euergetes having begun some dis- 
pute, and Philometor having at last given in, to pacify 
him. Our guests must have been waiting for us a long 
time. Had Publius Scipio made his appearance?” 

“He had sent to excuse himself,” replied the king 
as he scratched the poll of Cleopatra’s parrot, parting 
its feathers with the tips of his fingers. “Lysias, the 
Corinthian, is sitting below, and he says he does not 
know where his friend can be gone.” 

“ But we know very well,” said Euergetes, casting 
an ironical glance at the queen. “It is pleasant to be 
w r ith Philometor and Cleopatra, but better still with 
Eros and Hebe. Sister, you look pale — shall I call for 
Zoe?” 

Cleopatra shook her head in negation, but she 
dropped into a seat, and sat stooping, with her head 
bowed over her knees as if she were dreadfully tired. 
Euergetes turned his back on her, and spoke to his 
brother of indifferent subjects, while she drew lines, 
some straight and some crooked, with her fan-stick 
through the pile of the soft rug on the floor, and sat 
gazing thoughtfully at her feet. As she sat thus her eye 
was caught by her sandals, richly set with precious 
stones, and the slender toes she had so often contem- 
plated with pleasure; but now the sight of them seemed 
to vex her, for in obedience to a swift impulse she 
loosened the straps, pushed off her right sandal with her 
left foot, kicked it from her, and said, turning to her 
husband : 

“ It is late and I do not feel well, and you may sup 
without me.” 

“By the healing Isis!” exclaimed Philometor, going 
up to her. “You look suffering. Shall I send for the 


2 54 


THE SISTERS. 


physicians? Is it really nothing more than your usual 
headache ? The gods be thanked! But that you should 
be unwell just to-day! I had so much to say to you; 
and the chief thing of all was that we are still a long 
way from completeness in our preparations for our per- 
formance. If this luckless Hebe were not — ” 

“She is in good hands,” interrupted Euergetes. 
“The Roman, Publius Scipio, has taken her to a place 
of safety; perhaps in order to present her to me to- 
morrow morning in return for the horses from Cyrene 
which I sent him to-day. How brightly your eyes 
sparkle, sister — with joy no doubt at this good idea. 
This evening, I dare say he is rehearsing the little one in 
her part that she may perform it well to-morrow. If 
we are mistaken — if Publius is ungrateful and proposes 
keeping the dove, then Thais, your pretty Athenian 
waiting-woman, may play the part of Hebe. What do 
you think of that suggestion, Cleopatra ?” 

“That I forbid such jesting with me!” cried the 
queen vehemently. “ No one has any consideration for 
me — no one pities me, and I suffer fearfully ! Euergetes 
scorns me — you, Philometor, would be glad to drag 
me down! If only the banquet is not interfered with, 
and so long as nothing spoils your pleasure! — Whether 
I die or no, no one cares!” 

With these words the queen burst into tears, and 
roughly pushed away her husband as he endeavored to 
soothe her. At last she dried her eyes, and said: “Go 
down — the guests are waiting.” 

“ Immediately, my love,” replied Philometor. “ But 
one thing I must tell you, for I know that it will arouse 
your sympathy. The Roman read to you the petition 
for pardon for Philotas, the chief of the Chrematistes 


THE SISTERS. 


2 55 


and ‘relative of the king/ which contains such serious 
charges against Eulseus. I was ready with all my heart 
to grant your wish and to pardon the man who is the 
father of these miserable water-bearers; but, before hav- 
ing the decree drawn up, I had the lists of the exiles to 
the gold-mines carefully looked through, and there it 
was discovered that Philotas and his wife have both been 
dead more than half a year. Death has settled this 
question, and I cannot grant to Publius the first service 
he has asked of me — asked with great urgency too. I 
am sorry for this, both for his sake and for that of poor 
Philotas, who was held in high esteem by our mother.” 

“ May the ravens devour them! ” answered Cleopatra, 
pressing her forehead against the ivory frame which sur- 
rounded the stuffed back of her seat. “ Once more I 
beg of you excuse me from all further speech.” This 
time the two kings obeyed her wishes. When Euer- 
getes offered her his hand she said with downcast eyes, 
and poking her fan-stick into the wool of the carpet : 

“I will visit you early to-morrow.” 

“After the first sacrifice,” added Euergetes. “If I 
know you well, something that you will then hear will 
please you greatly; very greatly indeed, I should think. 
Bring the children with you; that I ask of you as a 
birthday request.” 


CHAPTER XX. 

The royal chariot in which Klea was standing, 
wrapped in the cloak and wearing the hat of the cap- 
tain of the civic guard, went swiftly and without stop- 


256 


THE SISTERS. 


ping through the streets of Memphis. As long as she 
saw houses with lighted windows on each side of the 
way, and met riotous soldiers and quiet citizens going 
home from the taverns, or from working late in their 
workshops, with lanterns in their hands or carried by 
their slaves — so long her predominant feeling was one 
of hatred to Publius; and mixed with this was a senti- 
ment altogether new to her — a sentiment that made 
her blood boil, and her heart now stand still and 
then again beat wildly — the thought that he might 
be a wretched deceiver. Had he not attempted to 
entrap one of them — whether her sister or herself it 
was all the same — wickedly to betray her, and to get 
her into his power! 

“With me/’ thought she, “he could not hope to gain 
his evil ends, and when he saw that I knew how to pro- 
tect myself he lured the poor unresisting child away with 
him, in order to ruin her and to drag her into shame and 
misery. Just like Rome herself, who seizes on one 
country after another to make them her own, so is this 
ruthless man. No sooner had that villain Eulaeus’ letter 
reached him, than he thought himself justified in believ- 
ing that I too was spellbound by a glance from his eyes, 
and would spread my wings to fly into his arms ; and so 
he put out his greedy hand to catch me too, and threw 
aside the splendor and delights of a royal banquet to 
hurry by night out into the desert, and to risk a hideous 
death — for the avenging deities still punish the evil- 
doer.” 

By this time she was shrouded in total darkness, for 
the moon was still hidden by black clouds. Memphis 
was already behind her, and the chariot was passing 
through a tall-stemmed palm-grove, where even at mid- 


THE SISTERS. 


2 57 


day deep shades intermingled with the sunlight. When, 
just at this spot, the thought once more pierced her soul 
that the seducer was devoted to death, she felt as though 
suddenly a bright glaring light had flashed up in her and 
round her, and she could have broken out into a shout 
of joy like one who, seeking retribution for blood, places 
his foot at last on the breast of his fallen foe. She 
clenched her teeth tightly and grasped her girdle, in 
which she had stuck the knife given her by the smith. 

If the charioteer by her side had been Publius, she 
would have stabbed him to the heart with the weapon 
with delight, and then have thrown herself under the 
horses’ hoofs and the brazen wheels of the chariot. 

But no! Still more gladly would she have found 
him dying in the desert, and before his heart had ceased 
to beat have shouted in his ear how much she hated him; 
and then, when his breast no longer heaved a breath — 
then she would have flung herself upon him, and have 
kissed his dimmed eyes. 

Her wildest thoughts of vengeance were as insepa- 
rable from tender pity and the warmest longings of a 
heart overflowing with love, as the dark waters of a river 
are from the brighter flood of a stream with which it 
has recently mingled. All the passionate impulses which 
had hitherto been slumbering in her soul were set free, 
and now raised their clamorous voices as she was whirled 
across the desert through the gloom of night. The 
wishes roused in her breast by her hatred appealing to 
her on one side and her love singing in her ear, in tempt- 
ing flute-tones, on the other, jostled and hustled one 
another, each displacing the other as they crowded her 
mind in wild confusion. As she proceeded on her 
journey she felt that she could have thrown herself like 


25 s 


THE SISTERS. 


a tigress on her victim, and yet — like an outcast woman 
— have flung herself at Publius’ knees in supplication for 
the love that was denied her. She had lost all idea of 
time and distance, and started as from a wild and be- 
wildering dream when the chariot suddenly halted, and 
the driver said in his rough tones : 

“ Here we are, I must turn back again.” 

She shuddered, drew the cloak more closely round 
her, sprang out on to the road, and stood there motion- 
less till the charioteer said: 

“ I have not spared my horses, my noble gentleman. 
Won’t you give me something to get a drop of wine ? ” 
Klea’s whole possessions were two silver drachmae, 
of which she herself owned one and the other belonged 
to Irene. On the last anniversary but one of his 
mother’s death, the king had given at the temple a sum 
to be divided among all the attendants, male and female, 
who served Serapis, and a piece of silver had fallen to 
the share of herself and her sister. Klea had them both 
about her in a little bag, which also contained a ring 
that her mother had given her at parting, and the amu- 
let belonging to Serapion. The girl took out the two 
silver coins and gave them to the driver, who, after test- 
ing the liberal gift with his fingers, cried out as he turned 
his horses: 

“A pleasant night to you, and may Aphrodite and 
all the Loves be favorable ! ” 

“Irene’s drachma!” muttered Klea to herself, as 
the chariot rolled away. The sweet form of her sister 
rose before her mind; she recalled the hour when the 
girl — still but a child — had entrusted it to her, because 
she lost everything unless Klea took charge of it for 
her. 


THE SISTERS. 


2 59 


“ Who will watch her and care for her now ? ” she 
asked herself, and she stood thinking, trying to defend 
herself against the wild wishes which again began 
to stir in her, and to collect her scattered thoughts. 
She had involuntarily avoided the beam of light which 
fell across the road from the tavern-window, and yet 
she could not help raising her eyes and looking along 
it, and she found herself looking through the dark- 
ness which enveloped her, straight into the faces of 
two men whose gaze was directed to the very spot 
where she was standing. And what faces they were 
that she saw! One, a fat face, framed in thick hair 
and a short, thick and ragged beard, was of a dusky 
brown and as coarse and brutal as the other was 
smooth, colorless and lean, cruel and crafty. The eyes 
of the first of these ruffians were prominent, weak 
and bloodshot, with a fixed glassy stare, while those of 
the other seemed always to be on the watch with a rest- 
less and uneasy leer. 

These were Euergetes’ assassins — they must be! 

Spellbound with terror and revulsion she stood quite 
still, fearing only that the ruffians might hear the beat- 
ing of her heart, for she felt as if it were a hammer 
swung up and down in an empty space, and beating 
with loud echoes, now in her bosom and now in her 
throat. 

“The young gentleman must have gone round be- 
hind the tavern — he knows the shortest way to the 
tombs. Let us go after him, and finish off the business 
at once,” said the broad-shouldered villain in a hoarse 
whisper that broke down every now and then, and 
which seemed to Klea even more repulsive than the 
monster’s face. 


260 


THE SISTERS. 


“So that he may hear us go after him — stupid!” 
answered the other. “When he has been waiting for 
his sweetheart about a quarter of an hour I will call his 
name in a woman’s voice, and at his first step towards 
the desert do you break his neck with the sand-bag. 
We have plenty of time yet, for it must still be a good 
half hour before midnight.” 

“So much the better,” said the other. “Our wine- 
jar is not nearly empty yet, and we paid the lazy land- 
lord for it in advance, before he crept into bed.” 

“You shall only drink two cups more,” said the 
punier villain. “For this time we have to do with a 
sturdy fellow, Setnam is not with us now to lend a hand 
in the work, and the dead meat must show no gaping 
thrusts or cuts. My teeth are not like yours when you 
are fasting — even cooked food must not be too tough 
for them to chew it, now-a-days. If you soak yourself 
in drink and fail in your blow, and I am not ready with 
the poisoned stiletto the thing won’t come off neatly. 
But why did not the Roman let his chariot wait ? ” 

“ Aye ! why did he let it go away ? ” asked the other 
staring open-mouthed in the direction where the sound 
of wheels was still to be heard. His companion mean- 
while laid his hand to his ear, and listened. Both were 
silent for a few minutes, then the thin one said: 

“The chariot has stopped at the first tavern. So 
much the better. The Roman has valuable cattle in 
his shafts, and at the inn down there, there is a shed for 
horses. Here in this hole there is hardly a stall for an 
ass, and nothing but sour wine and mouldy beer. I 
don’t like the rubbish, and save my coin for Alexandria 
and white Mariotic; that is strengthening and purifies 
the blood. For the present I only wish we were as well 


THE SISTERS. 


261 


off as those horses; they will have plenty of time to 
recover their breath.” 

“Yes, plenty of time,” answered the other with a 
broad grin, and then he with his companion withdrew 
into the room to fill his cup. 

Klea too could hear that the chariot which had 
brought her hither, had halted at the farther tavern, but 
it did not occur to her that the driver had gone in to 
treat himself to wine with half of Irene’s drachma. The 
horses should make up for the lost time, and they could 
easily do it, for when did the king’s banquets ever end 
before midnight? 

As soon as Klea saw that the assassins were filling 
their earthen cups, she slipped softly on tiptoe behind the 
tavern ; the moon came out from behind the clouds for 
a few minutes, she sought and found the short way by 
the desert-path to the Apis-tombs, and hastened rapidly 
along it. She looked straight before her, for whenever 
she glanced at the road-side, and her eye was caught by 
some dried up shrub of the desert, silvery in the pale 
moonlight, she fancied she saw behind it the face of a 
murderer. 

The skeletons of fallen beasts standing up out of the 
dust, and the bleached jawbones of camels and asses, 
which shone much whiter than the desert-sand on which 
they lay, seemed to have come to life and motion, and 
made her think of the tiger-teeth of the bearded ruffian. 

The clouds of dust driven in her face by the warm 
west wind, which had risen higher, increased her alarm, 
for they were mingled with the colder current of the 
night-breeze; and again and again she felt as if spirits 
were driving her onwards with their hot breath, and 
stroking her face with their cold fingers. Every thing 


262 


THE SISTERS. 


that her senses perceived was transformed by her heated 
imagination into a fearful something; but more fearful 
and more horrible than anything she heard, than any 
phantom that met her eye in the ghastly moonlight, 
were her own thoughts of what was to be done now, in 
the immediate future — of the fearful fate that threatened 
the Roman and Irene; and she was incapable of sepa- 
rating one from the other in her mind, for one influence 
alone possessed her, heart and soul: dread, dread; the 
same boundless, nameless, deadly dread — alike of mor- 
tal peril and irremediable shame, and of the airiest 
phantoms and the merest nothings. 

A large black cloud floated slowly across the moon 
and utter darkness hid everything around, even the un- 
defined forms which her imagination had turned to 
images of dread. She was forced to moderate her pace, 
and find her way, feeling each step; and just as to a 
child some hideous form that looms before him vanishes 
into nothingness when he covers his eyes with his hand, 
so the profound darkness which now enveloped her, 
suddenly released her soul from a hundred imaginary 
terrors. 

She stood still, drew a deep breath, collected the 
whole natural force of her will, and asked herself what 
she could do to avert the horrid issue. 

Since seeing the murderers every thought of rer 
venge, every wish to punish the seducer with death, had 
vanished from her mind ; one desire alone possessed 
her now — that of rescuing him, the man, from the 
clutches of these ravening beasts. Walking slowly on- 
wards she repeated to herself every word she had heard 
that referred to Publius and Irene as spoken by Euer- 
getes, Eulaeus, the recluse, and the assassins, and re- 


THE SISTERS. 


263 


called every step she had taken since she left the temple; 
thus she brought herself back to the consciousness that 
she had come out and faced danger and endured terror, 
solely and exclusively for Irene’s sake. The image of 
her sister rose clearly before her mind in all its bright 
charm, undimmed by any jealous grudge which, in- 
deed, ever since her passion had held her in its toils 
had never for the smallest fraction of a minute pos- 
sessed her. 

Irene had grown up under her eye, sheltered by her 
care, in the sunshine of her love. To take care of her, 
to deny herself, and bear the severest fatigue for her 
had been her pleasure; and now as she appealed to her 
father — as she wont to do — as if he were present, and 
asked him in an inaudible cry: “Tell me, have I not 
done all for her that I could do ? ” and said to herself 
that he could not possibly answer her appeal but with 
assent, her eyes filled with tears; the bitterness and dis- 
content which had lately filled her breast gradually dis- 
appeared, and a gentle, calm, refreshing sense of satis- 
faction came over her spirit, like a cooling breeze after 
a scorching day. 

As she now again stood still, straining her eyes which 
were growing more accustomed to the darkness, to dis- 
cover one of the temples at the end of the alley of 
sphinxes, suddenly and unexpectedly at her right hand 
a solemn and many-voiced hymn of lamentation fell 
upon her ear. This was from the priests of Osiris-Apis 
who were performing the sacred mysteries of their god, 
at midnight, on the roof of the temple. She knew the 
hymn well — a lament for the deceased Osiris which im- 
plored him with urgent supplication to break the power 
of death, to rise again, to bestow new light and new 


264 


THE SISTERS. 


vitality on the world and on men, and to vouchsafe to 
all the departed a new existence. 

The pious lament had a powerful effect on her ex- 
cited spirit. Her parents too perhaps had passed through 
death, and were now taking part in the conduct of the 
destiny of the world and of men in union with the life- 
giving God. Her breath came fast, she threw up her 
arms, and, for the first time since in her wrath she had 
turned her back on the holy of holies in the temple of 
Serapis, she poured forth her whole soul with passionate 
fervor in a deep and silent prayer for strength to fulfil 
her duty to the end, — for some sign to show her the 
way to save Irene from misfortune, and Publius from 
death. And as she prayed she felt no longer alone — 
no, it seemed to her that she stood face to face with the 
invincible Power which protects the good, in whom she 
now again had faith, though for Him she knew no name; 
as a daughter, pursued by foes, might clasp her power- 
ful father’s knees and claim his succor. 

She had not stood thus with uplifted arms for many 
minutes when the moon, once more appearing, recalled 
her to herself and to actuality. She now perceived 
close to her, at hardly a hundred paces from where she 
stood, the line of sphinxes by the side of which lay the 
tombs of Apis near which she was to await Publius. 
Her heart began to beat faster again, and her dread of 
her own weakness revived. In a few minutes she must 
meet the Roman, and, involuntarily putting up her hand 
to smooth her hair, she was reminded that she still 
wore Glaucus’ hat on her head and his cloak wrapped 
round her shoulders. Lifting up her heart again in a 
brief prayer for a calm and collected mind, she slowly 
arranged her dress and its folds, and as she did so the 


THE SISTERS. 


265 


key of the tomb-cave, which she still had about her, 
fell under her hand. An idea flashed through her brain 
— she caught at it, and with hurried breath followed it 
out, till she thought she had now hit upon the right way 
to preserve from death the man who was so rich and 
powerful, who had given her nothing but taken every- 
thing from her, and to whom, nevertheless, she — the 
poor water-bearer whom he had thought to trifle with 
— could now bestow the most precious of the gifts of the 
immortals, namely, life. 

Serapion had said, and she was willing to believe, 
that Publius was not base, and he certainly was not one 
of those who could prove ungrateful to a preserver. 
She longed to earn the right to demand something of 
him, and that could be nothing else but that he should 
give up her sister and bring Irene back to her. 

When could it be that he had come to an under- 
standing with the inexperienced and easily wooed 
maiden? How ready she must have been to clasp the 
hand held out to her by this man! Nothing surprised 
her in Irene, the child of the present; she could com- 
prehend too that Irene’s charm might quickly win the 
heart even of a grave and serious man. 

And yet — in all the processions it was never Irene 
that he had gazed at, but always herself, and how came it 
to pass that he had given a prompt and ready assent 
to the false invitation to go out to meet her in the 
desert at midnight ? Perhaps she was still nearer to his 
heart than Irene, and if gratitude drew him to her with 
fresh force then' — aye then — -he might perhaps woo her, 
and forget his pride and her lowly position, and ask her 
to be his wife. 

She thought this out fully, but before she had 
18 


266 


THE SISTERS. 


reached the half circle enclosed by the Philoso- 
phers’ busts the question occurred to her mind. And 
Irene? 

Had she gone with him and quitted her without 
bidding her farewell because the young heart was pos- 
sessed with a passionate love for Publius — who was in- 
deed the most lovable of men? And he? Would he 
indeed, out of gratitude for what she hoped to do for 
him, make up his mind, if she demanded it, to make 
her Irene his wife — the poor but more than lovely 
daughter of a noble house ? 

And if this were possible, if these two could be 
happy in love and honor, should she Klea come 
between the couple to divide them ? Should she jeal- 
ously snatch Irene from his arms and carry her back to 
the gloomy temple which now — after she had fluttered 
awhile in sportive freedom in the sunny air — would cer- 
tainly seem to her doubly sinister and unendurable? 
Should she be the one to plunge Irene into misery — 
Irene, her child, the treasure confided to her care, w r hom 
she had sworn to cherish ? 

“No, and again no,” she said resolutely. “She was 
born for happiness, and I for endurance, and if I dare 
beseech thee to grant me one thing more, O thou infinite 
Divinity! it is that Thou wouldst cut out from my soul 
this love which is eating into my heart as though it 
w^ere rotten wood, and keep me far from envy and jeal- 
ousy when I see her happy in his arms. It is hard — 
very hard to drive one’s own heart out into the desert 
in order that spring may blossom in that of another: 
but it is well so — and my mother would commend me 
and my father would say I had acted after his own 
heart, and in obedience to the teaching of the great men 


/ 


THE SISTERS. 267 

on these pedestals. Be still, be still my aching heart— 
there — that is right!” 

Thus reflecting she went past the busts of Zeno and 
Chrysippus, glancing at their features distinct in the 
moonlight: and her eyes falling on the smooth slabs of 
stone with which the open space was paved, her own 
shadow caught her attention, black and sharply defined, 
and exactly resembling that of some man travelling 
from one town to another in his cloak and broad- 
brimmed hat. 

“Just like a man!” she muttered to herself; and as, 
at the same moment, she saw a figure resembling her 
own, and, like herself, wearing a hat, appear near the 
entrance to the tombs, and fancied she recognized it as 
Publius, a thought, a scheme, flashed through her ex- 
cited brain, which at first appalled her, but in the next 
instant filled her with the ecstasy which an eagle may 
feel when he spreads his mighty wings and soars above 
the dust of the earth into the pure and infinite ether. 
Her heart beat high, she breathed deeply and slowly, 
but she advanced to meet the Roman, drawn up to her 
full height like a queen, who goes forward to receive 
some equal sovereign ; her hat, which she had taken oft', 
in her left hand, and the smith’s key in her right — 
straight on towards the door of the Apis-tombs. 


CHAPTER XXI. 

The man whom Rlea had seen was in fact none 
other than Publius. He was now at the end of a busy 
day, for after he had assured himself that Irene had 


2 68 


THE SISTERS. 


been received by the sculptor and his wife, and wel- 
comed as if she were their own child, he had returned 
to his tent to write once more a dispatch to Rome. 
But this he could not accomplish, for his friend Lysias 
paced restlessly up and down by him as he sat, and as 
often as he put the reed to the papyrus disturbed him 
with enquiries about the recluse, the sculptor, and their 
rescued protegee. 

When, finally, the Corinthian desired to know 
whether he, Publius, considered Irene’s eyes to be 
brown or blue, he had sprung up impatiently, and ex- 
claimed indignantly: 

“And supposing they were red or green, what would 
it matter to me!” 

Lysias seemed pleased rather than vexed with this 
reply, and he was on the point of confessing to his 
friend that Irene had caused in his heart a perfect con- 
flagration — as of a forest or a city in flames — when a 
master of the horse had appeared from Euergetes, to 
present the four splendid horses from Cyrene, which his 
master requested the noble Roman Publius Cornelius 
Scipio Nasica to accept in token of his friendship. 

The two friends, who both were judges and lovers 
of horses, spent at least an hour in admiring the fine 
build and easy paces of these valuable beasts. Then 
came a chamberlain from the queen to invite Publius to 
go to her at once. 

The Roman followed the messenger after a short 
delay in his tent, in order to take with him the gems 
representing the marriage of Hebe, for on his way from 
the sculptor’s to the palace it had occurred to him that 
he would, offer them to the queen, after he had informed 
her of the parentage of the two water-carriers. Publius 


THE SISTERS. 


269 


had keen eyes, and the queen’s weaknesses had not 
escaped him, but he had never suspected her of being 
capable of abetting her licentious brother in forcibly pos- 
sessing himself of the innocent daughter of a noble 
father. He now purposed to make her a present — as in 
some degree a substitute for the representation his 
friend had projected, and which had come to nothing — 
of the picture which she had hoped to find pleasure in 
reproducing. 

Cleopatra received him on her roof, a favor of which 
few could boast ; she allowed him to sit at her feet while 
she reclined on her couch, and gave him to understand, 
by every glance of her eyes and every word she spoke, 
that his presence was a happiness to her, and filled her 
with passionate delight. Publius soon contrived to lead 
the conversation to the subject of the innocent parents 
of the water-bearers, who had been sent off to the gold- 
mines; but Cleopatra interrupted his speech in their 
favor and asked him plainly, undisguisedly, and without 
any agitation, whether it was true that he himself desired 
to win the youthful Hebe. And she met his absolute 
denial with such persistent and repeated expressions of 
disbelief, assuming at last a tone of reproach, that he 
grew vexed and broke out into a positive declaration 
that he regarded lying as unmanly and disgraceful, and 
could endure any insult rather than a doubt of his 
veracity. 

Such a vehement and energetic remonstrance from a 
man she had distinguished was a novelty to Cleopatra, 
and she did not take it amiss, for she might now be- 
lieve — what she much wished to believe — that Publius 
wanted to have nothing to do with the fair Hebe, that 
Eulaeus had slandered her friend, and that Zoe had been 


270 


THE SISTERS. 


in error when, after her vain expedition to the temple — 
from which she had then just returned — she had told 
her that the Roman was Irene’s lover, and must at the 
earliest hour have betrayed to the girl herself, or to the 
priests in the Serapeum, what was their purpose regard- 
ing her. 

In the soul of this noble youth there was nothing 
false — there could be nothing false ! And she, who was 
accustomed never to hear a word from the men who 
surrounded her without asking herself with what aim it 
was spoken, and how much of it was dissimulation or 
downright falsehood, trusted the Roman, and was so 
happy in her trust that, full of gracious gaiety, she her- 
self invited Publius to give her the recluse’s petition to 
read. The Roman at once gave her the roll, saying 
that since it contained so much that was sad, much as 
he hoped she would make herself acquainted with it, he 
felt himself called upon also to give her some pleasure, 
though in truth but a very small one. Thus speaking 
he produced the gems, and she showed as much delight 
over this little Avork of art as if, instead of being a rich 
queen and possessed of the finest engraved gems in the 
world, she were some poor girl receiving her first gift of 
some long-desired gold ornament. 

“Exquisite, splendid!” she cried again and again. 
“And besides, they are an imperishable memorial of 
you, dear friend, and of your visit to Egypt. I will have 
them set with the most precious stones ; even diamonds 
will seem worthless to me compared with this gift from 
you. This has already decided my sentence as to 
Eulaeus and his unhappy victims before I read your pe- 
tition. Still I will read that roll, and read it attentively, 
for my husband regards Eulaeus as a useful — almost an 


THE SISTERS. 


271 


indispensable — tool, and I must give good reasons for 
my verdict and for the pardon. I believe in the inno- 
cence of the unfortunate Philotas, but if he had commit- 
ted a hundred murders, after this present I would pro- 
cure his freedom all the same.” 

The words vexed the Roman, and they made hei 
who had spoken them in order to please him appear to 
him at that moment more in the light of a corruptible 
official than of a queen. He found the time hang heavy 
that he spent with Cleopatra, who, in spite of his re- 
serve, gave him to understand with more and more in- 
sistence how warmly she felt towards him ; but the more 
she talked and the more she told him, the more silent 
he became, and he breathed a sigh of relief when her 
husband at last appeared to fetch him and Cleopatra 
away to their mid-day meal. 

At table Philometor promised to take up the cause 
of Philotas and his wife, both of whom he had known, 
and whose fate had much grieved him ; still he begged 
his wife and the Roman not to bring Eulaeus to justice 
till Euergetes should have left Memphis , for, during his 
brother’s presence, beset as he was with difficulties, he 
could not spare him; and if he might judge of Publius 
by himself he cared far more to reinstate the innocent 
in their rights, and to release them from their miserable 
lot — a lot of which he had only learned the full horrors 
quite recently from his tutor Agatharchides — than to 
drag a wretch before the judges to-morrow or the day 
after, who was unworthy of his anger, and who at any 
rate should not escape punishment. 

Before the letter from Asclepiodorus — stating the 
mistaken hypothesis entertained by the priests of Sera- 
pis that Irene had been carried off by the king’s order 


272 


THE SISTERS. 


— could reach the palace, Publius had found an oppor- 
tunity of excusing himself and quitting the royal couple. 

Not even Cleopatra herself could raise any objection 
t© his distinct assurance that he must write to Rome to- 
day on matters of importance. Philometor’s favor was 
easy to win, and as soon as he was alone with his wife 
he could not find words enough in praise of the noble 
qualties of the young man, who seemed destined in the 
future to be of the greatest service to him and to his in- 
terests at Rome, and whose friendly attitude towards 
himself was one more advantage that he owed — as he 
was happy to acknowledge — to the irresistible talents 
and grace of his wife. 

When Publius had quitted the palace and hurried 
back to his tent, he felt like a journeyman returning 
from a hard day’s labor, or a man acquitted from a 
serious charge ; like one who had lost his way, and has 
found the right road again. 

The heavy air in the arbors and alleys of the em- 
bowered gardens seemed to him easier to breathe than 
the cool breeze that fanned Cleopatra’s raised roof. He 
felt the queen’s presence to be at once exciting and op- 
pressive, and in spite of all that was flattering to him- 
self in the advances made to him by the powerful prin- 
cess, it was no more gratifying to his taste than an ele- 
gantly prepared dish served on gold plate, which we are 
forced to partake of though poison may be hidden in it, 
and which when at last we taste it is sickeningly sweet. 

Publius was an honest man, and it seemed to him — 
as to all who resemble him — that love which was forced 
upon him was like a decoration of honor bestowed by 
a hand which we do not respect, and . that we would 
rather refuse than accept ; or like praise out of all pro- 


THE SISTERS. 


2 73 


portion to our merit, which may indeed delight a fool, 
but rouses the indignation rather than the gratitude of 
a wise man. It struck him too that Cleopatra intended 
to make use of him, in the first place as a toy to amuse 
herself, and then as a useful instrument or underling, 
and this so gravely incensed and discomfited the serious 
and sensitive young man that he would willingly have 
quitted Memphis and Egypt at once and without any 
leave-taking. However, it was not quite easy for him 
to get away, for all his thoughts of Cleopatra were 
mixed up with others of Klea, as inseparably as when 
we picture to ourselves the shades of night, the tender 
light of the calm moon rises too before our fancy. 

Having saved Irene, his present desire was to restore 
her parents to liberty; to quit Egypt without having 
seen Klea once more seemed to him absolutely impossi- 
ble. He endeavored once more to revive in his mind 
the image of her proud tall figure; he felt he must tell 
her that she was beautiful, a woman worthy of a king — 
that he was her friend and hated injustice, and was 
ready to sacrifice much for justice’s sake and for her own 
in the service of her parents and herself. To-day again, 
before the banquet, he purposed to go to the temple, 
and to entreat the recluse to help him to an interview 
with his adopted daughter. 

If only Klea could know beforehand what he had 
been doing for Irene and their parents she must surely 
let him see that her haughty eyes could look kindly 
on him, mus. offer him her hand in farewell, and then 
he should clasp it in both his, and press it to his breast. 
Then would he tell her in the warmest and most inspired 
words he could command how happy he was to have 
seen her and known her, and how painful it was to bid 


274 


THE SISTERS. 


her farewell; perhaps she might leave her hand in his, 
and give him some kind word in return. One kind 
word — one phrase of thanks from Klea’s firm but beau- 
tiful mouth — seemed to him of higher value than a kiss 
or an embrace from the great and wealthy Queen of 
Egypt. 

When Publius was excited he could be altogether 
carried away by a sudden sweep of passion, but his 
imagination was neither particularly lively nor glowing. 
While his horses were being harnessed, and then while he 
was driving to the Serapeum, the tall form of the water- 
bearer was constantly before him ; again and again he 
pictured himself holding her hand instead pf the reins, 
and while he repeated to himself all he meant to say at 
parting, and in fancy heard her thank him with a trem- 
bling voice for his valuable help, and say that she would 
never forget him, he felt his eyes moisten — unused as 
they had been to tears for many years. He could not 
help recalling the day when he had taken leave of his 
family to go to the wars for the first time. Then it had 
not been his own eyes but his mother’s that had sparkled 
through tears, and it struck him that Klea, if she could 
be compared to any other woman, was most like to that 
noble matron to whom he owed his life, and that she 
might stand by the side of the daughter of the great 
Scipio Africanus like a youthful Minerva by the side of 
Juno, the stately mother of the gods. 

His disappointment was great when he found the 
door of the temple closed, and was forced to return to 
Memphis without having seen either Klea or the recluse. 

He could try again to-morrow to accomplish what 
had been impossible to-day, but his wish to see the girl 
he loved, rose to a torturing longing, and as he sat once 


THE SISTERS. 


275 


more in his tent to finish his second despatch to Rome 
the thought of Klea came again to disturb his serious 
work. Twenty times he started up to collect his 
thoughts, and as often flung away his reed as the figure 
of the water-bearer interposed between him and the 
writing under his hand; at last, out of patience with 
himself, he struck the table in front of him with some 
force, set his fists in his sides hard enough to hurt him- 
self, and held them there for a minute, ordering himself 
firmly and angrily to do his duty before he thought of 
anything else. 

His iron will won the victory; by the time it was 
growing dusk the despatch was written. He was in the 
very act of stamping the wax of the seal with the signet 
of his family — engraved on the sardonyx of his ring — 
when one of his servants announced a black slave who 
desired to speak with him. Publius ordered that he 
should be admitted, and the negro handed him the tile 
on which Eulaeus had treacherously written Klea’s invi- 
tation to meet her at midnight near the Apis-tombs. 
His enemy’s crafty-looking emissary seemed to the 
young man as a messenger from the gods; in a transport 
of haste and without the faintest shadow of a suspicion 
he wrote, “I will be there,” on the luckless piece of 
clay. 

Publius was anxious to give the letter to the Senate, 
which he had just finished, with his own hand, and pri- 
vately, to the messenger who had yesterday brought him 
the despatch from Rome; and as he would rather have 
set aside an invitation to carry off a royal treasure that 
same night than have neglected to meet Klea, he could 
not in any case be a guest at the king’s banquet, though 
Cleopatra would expect to see him there in accordance 


27 6 


THE SISTERS. 


with his promise. At this juncture he was annoyed to 
miss his friend Lysias, for he wished to avoid offending 
the queen; and the Corinthian, who at this moment was 
doubtless occupied in some perfectly useless manner, was 
as clever in inventing plausible excuses as he himself was 
dull in such matters. He hastily wrote a few lines to 
the friend who shared his tent, requesting him to inform 
the king that he had been prevented by urgent business 
from appearing among his guests that evening; then he 
threw on his cloak, put on his travelling-hat which shaded 
his face, and proceeded on foot and without any servant 
to the harbor, with his letter in one hand and a staff in 
the other. 

The soldiers and civic guards which filled the courts 
of the palace, taking him for a messenger, did not chal- 
lenge him as he walked swiftly and firmly on, and so, 
without being detained or recognized, he reached the 
inn by the harbor, where he was forced to wait an hour 
before the messenger came home from the gay strangers* 
quarter where he had gone to amuse himself. He had 
a great deal to talk of with this man, who was to set out 
next morning for Alexandria and Rome; but Publius 
hardly gave himself the necessary time, for he meant to 
start for the meeting place in the Necropolis indicated 
by Klea, and well-known to himself, a full hour before 
midnight, although he knew that he could reach his 
destination in a very much shorter time. 

The sun seems to move too slowly to those who long 
and wait, and a planet would be more likely to fail in 
punctuality than a lover when called by love. 

In order to avoid observation he did not take a 
chariot but a strong mule which the host of the inn lent 
him with pleasure ; for the Roman was so full of happy 


THE SISTERS. 


277 


excitement in the hope of meeting Klea that he had 
slipped a gold piece into the small, lightly-closed fingers 
of the innkeeper’s pretty child, which lay asleep on a 
bench by the side of the table, besides paying double as 
much for the country wine he had drunk as if it had 
been fine Falernian and without asking for his reckoning. 
The host looked at him in astonishment when, finally, 
he sprang with a grand leap on to the back of the tall 
beast, without laying his hand on it; and it seemed even 
to Publius himself as though he had never since boy- 
hood felt so fresh, so extravagantly happy as at this 
moment. 

The road to the tombs from the harbor was a differ- 
ent one to that which led thither from the king’s palace, 
and which Klea had taken, nor did it lead past the tav- 
ern in which she had seen the murderers. By day it 
was much used by pilgrims, and the Roman could not 
miss it even by night, for the mule he was riding knew 
it well. That he had learned, for in answer to his ques- 
tion as to what the innkeeper kept the beast for he had 
said that it was wanted every day to carry pilgrims ar- 
riving from Upper Egypt to the temple of Serapis and 
the tombs of the sacred bulls ; he could therefore very 
decidedly refuse the host’s offer to send a driver with the 
beast. All who saw him set out supposed that he was 
returning to the city and the palace. 

Publius rode through the streets of the city at an 
easy trot, and, as the laughter of soldiers carousing in a 
tavern fell upon his ear, he could have joined heartily 
in their merriment. But when the silent desert lay 
around him, and the stars showed him that he would 
be much too early at the appointed place, he brought 
the mule to a slower pace, and the nearer he came to 


THE SISTERS. 


278 

his destination the graver he grew, and the stronger his 
heart beat. It must be something important and pres- 
sing indeed that Klea desired to tell him in such a place 
and at such an hour. Or was she like a thousand other 
women — was he now on the way to a lover’s meeting 
with her, who only a few days before had responded to 
his glance and accepted his violets ? 

This thought flashed once through his mind with 
importunate distinctness, but he dismissed it as absurd 
and unworthy of himself. A king would be more likely 
to offer to share his throne with a beggar than this girl 
would be to invite him to enjoy the sweet follies of love- 
making with her in a secret spot. 

Of course she wanted above all things to acquire 
some certainty as to her sister’s fate, perhaps too to 
speak to him of her parents; still, she would hardly 
have made up her mind to invite him if she had not 
learned to trust him, and this confidence filled him with 
pride, and at the same time with an eager longing to 
see her, which seemed to storm his heart with more 
violence with every minute that passed. 

While the mule sought and found its way in the 
deep darkness with slow and sure steps, he gazed up at 
the firmament, at the play of the clouds which now 
covered the moon with their black masses, and now 
parted, floating off in white sheeny billows while the 
silver crescent of the moon showed between them like 
a swan against the dark' mirror of a lake. 

And all the time he thought incessantly of Klea — 
thinking in a dreamy way that he saw her before him, 
but different and taller than before, her form growing 
more and more before his eyes till at last it was so tall 
that her head touched the sky, the clouds seemed to be 


THE SISTERS. 


279 

her veil, and the moon a brilliant diadem in her abun- 
dant dark hair. Powerfully stirred by this vision he let 
the bridle fall on the mule’s neck, and spread open his 
arms to the beautiful phantom, but as he rode forwards 
it ever retired, and when presently the west wind blew 
the sand in his face, and he had to cover his eyes with 
his hand it vanished entirely, and did not return before 
he found himself at the Apis-tombs. 

He had hoped to find here a soldier or a watchman 
to whom he could entrust the beast, but when the mid- 
night chant of the priests of the temple of Osiris-Apis 
had died away not a sound was to be heard far or near; 
all that lay around him was as still and as motionless 
as though all that had ever lived there were dead. Or 
had some demon robbed him of his hearing ? He could 
hear the rush of his own swift pulses in his ears — not 
the faintest sound besides. 

Such silence is there nowhere but in the city of the 
dead and at night, nowhere but in the desert. 

He tied the mule’s bridle to a stela of granite cov- 
ered with inscriptions, and went forward to the ap- 
pointed place. Midnight must be past — that he saw 
by the position of the moon, and he was beginning to 
ask himself whether he should remain standing where 
he was or go on to meet the water-bearer when he heard 
first a light footstep, and then saw a tall erect figure 
wrapped in a long mantle advancing straight towards 
him along the avenue of sphinxes. Was it a man or a 
woman — was it she whom he expected ? and if it were 
she, was there ever a woman who had come to meet a 
lover at an assignation with so measured, nay so solemn, 
a step? Now he recognized her face — was it the pale 
moonlight that made it look so bloodless and marble- 


2 So 


THE SISTERS. 


white? There was something rigid in her features, and 
yet they had never — not even when she blushingly ac- 
cepted his violets- — looked to him so faultlessly beauti- 
ful, so regular and so nobly cut, so dignified, nay im- 
pressive. 

For fully a minute the two stood face to face, speech- 
less and yet quite near to each other. Then Publius 
broke the silence, uttering with the warmest feeling and 
yet with anxiety in his deep, pure voice, only one single 
word; and the word was her name “Klea.” 

The music of this single word stirred the girl's heart 
like a message and blessing from heaven, like the sweet- 
est harmony of the siren’s song, like the word of acquit- 
tal from a judge’s lips when the verdict is life or death, 
and her lips were already parted to say ‘Publius’ in a 
tone no less deep and heartfelt — but, with all the force 
of her soul, she restrained herself, and said softly and 
quickly : 

“You are here at a late hour, and it is well that you 
have come.” 

“You sent for me,” replied the Roman. 

“It was another that did that, not I,” replied Klea 
in a slow dull tone, as if she were lifting a heavy 
weight, and could hardly draw her breath. “Now — 
follow me, for this is not the place to explain every- 
thing in.” 

With these words Klea went towards the locked 
door of the Apis-tombs, and tried, as she stood in front 
of it, to insert into the lock the key that Krates had 
given her; but the lock was still so new, and her fin- 
gers shook so much, that she could not immediately 
succeed. Publius meanwhile was standing close by her 
side, and as he tried to help her his fingers touched hers. 


THE SISTERS. 


28 


And when he — certainly not by mistake — laid his strong 
and yet trembling hand on hers, she let it stay for a 
moment, for she felt as if a tide of warm mist rose up 
in her bosom dimming her perceptions, and paralyzing 
her will and blurring her sight. 

“ Klea,” he repeated, and he tried to take her left 
hand in his own; but she, like a person suddenly aroused 
to consciousness after a short dream, immediately with- 
drew the hand on which his was resting, put the key 
into the lock, opened the door, and exclaimed in a voice 
of almost stem command, “ Go in first.” 

Publius obeyed and entered the spacious antecham- 
ber of the venerable cave, hewn out of the rock and 
now dimly lighted. A curved passage of which he 
could not see the end lay before him, and on both 
sides, to the right and left of him, opened out the 
chambers in which stood the sarcophagi of the deceased 
sacred bulls. Over each of the enormous stone coffins 
a lamp burnt day and night, and wherever a vault stood 
open their glimmer fell across the deep gloom of the 
cave, throwing a bright beam of light on the dusky 
path that led into the heart of the rock, like a carpet 
woven of rays of light. 

What place was this that Klea had chosen to speak 
with him in. 

But though her voice sounded firm, she herself was 
not cool and insensible as Orcus — which this place, 
which was filled with the fumes of incense and weighed 
upon his senses, much resembled — for he had felt her 
fingers tremble under his, and when he went up to her, 
to help her, her heart beat no less violentlv and rapidly 
than his own. Ah! the man who should succeed in 
touching that heart of hard, but pure and precious crys- 

19 


282 


THE SISTERS. 

tal would indeed enjoy a glorious draught of the most 
perfect bliss. 

‘•This is our destination,” said Klea; and then she 
went on in short broken sentences. “ Remain where 
you are. Leave me this place near the door. Now, 
answer me first one question. My sister Irene has 
vanished from the temple. Did you cause her to be 
carried off? ” 

“I did,” replied Publius eagerly. “She desired me 
to greet you from her, and to tell you how much she 
likes her new friends. When I shall have told you — ” 

“Not now ” interrupted Klea excitedly. “Turn round 
— there where you see the lamp-light.” Publius did as 
he was desired, and a slight shudder shook even his 
bold heart, for the girl’s sayings and doings seemed to 
him not solemn merely, but mysterious like those of a 
prophetess. A violent crash sounded through the silent 
and sacred place, and loud echoes were tossed from 
side to side, ringing ominously throughout the grotto. 
Publius turned anxiously round, and his eye, seeking 
Klea, found her no more; then, hurrying to the door 
of the cave, he heard her lock it on the outside. 

The water-bearer had escaped him, had flung the 
heavy door to, and imprisoned him; and this idea was 
to the Roman so degrading and unendurable that, lost 
to every feeling but rage, wounded pride, and the wild 
desire to be free, he kicked the door with all his might, 
and called out angrily to Klea: 

“ Open this door — I command you. Let me free 
this moment or, by all the gods — ” 

He did not finish his threat, for in the middle of the 
right-hand panel of the door a small wicket was opened 
through which the priests were wont to puff incense into 


THE SISTERS. 


283 


the tomb of the sacred bulls — and twice, thrice, finally, 
when he still would not be pacified, a fourth time, Klea 
called out to him: 

“ Listen to me — listen to me, Publius.” 

Publius ceased storming, and she went on : 

“ Do not threaten me, for you will certainly repent 
it when you have heard what I have to tell you. Do 
not interrupt me; I may tell you at once this door is 
opened every day before sunrise, so your imprisonment 
will not last long; and you must submit to it, for I shut 
you in to save your life — yes, your life which was in 
danger. Do you think my anxiety was folly? No, 
Publius, it is only too well founded, and if you, as a 
man, are strong and bold, so am I as a woman. I 
never was afraid of an imaginary nothing. Judge 
yourself whether I was not right to be afraid for you. 

“ King Euergetes and Eulaeus have bribed two 
hideous monsters to murder you. When I went to seek 
out Irene I overheard all, and I have seen with my own 
eyes the two horrible wolves who are lurking to fall 
upon you, and heard with these ears their scheme for 
doing it. I never wrote the note on the tile which was 
signed with my name; Eulaeus did it, and you took his 
bait and came out into the desert by night. In a few 
minutes the ruffians will have stolen up to this place to 
seek their victim, but they will not find you, Publius, 
for I have saved you — I, Klea, whom you first met with 
smiles — whose sister you have stolen away— the same 
Klea that you a minute since were ready to threaten. 
Now, at once, I am going ihto the desert, dressed like 
a traveller in a coat and hat, so that jn the doubtful light 
of the moon I may easily be takem for you — going to 
give my weary heart as a. prey to - the assassins’ knife.” 


284 


THE SISTERS. 


“You are mad!” cried Publius, and he flung himself 
with his whole weight on the door, and kicked it with 
all his strength. “ What you purpose is pure madness — 
open the door, I command you ! However strong the 
villains may be that Euergetes has bribed, I am man 
enough to defend myself.” 

“You are unarmed, Publius, and they have cords 
and daggers.” 

“ Then open the door, and stay here with me till 
day dawns. It is not noble, it is wicked to cast away 
your life. Open the door at once, I entreat you, I 
command you ! ” 

At any other time the words would not have failed 
of their effect on Klea’s reasonable nature, but the fear- 
ful storm of feeling which had broken over her during 
the last few hours had borne away in its whirl all her 
composure and self-command. The one idea, the one 
resolution, the one desire, which wholly possessed her 
was to close the life that had been so full of self-sacrifice 
by the greatest sacrifice of all — that of life itself, and not 
only in order to secure Irene’s happiness and to save 
the Roman, but because it pleased her — her father’s 
daughter — to make a noble end; because she, the 
maiden, would fain show Publius what a woman might 
be capable of who loved him above all others ; because, 
at this moment, death did not seem a misfortune; and 
her mind, overwrought by hours of terrific tension, could 
not free itself from the fixed idea that she would and 
must sacrifice herself. 

She no longer thought these things — she was pos- 
sessed by them; they had the mastery, and as a mad- 
man feels forced to repeat the same words again and 
again to himself, so no prayer, no argument at this mo- 


THE SISTERS. 


ment would have prevailed to divert her from her pur- 
pose of giving up her young life for Publius and Irene. 

She contemplated this resolve with affection and 
pride as justifying her in looking up to herself as to 
some nobler creature. She turned a deaf ear to the 
Roman’s entreaty, and said in a tone of which the soft- 
ness surprised him : 

“Be silent Publius, and hear me further. You too 
are noble, and certainly you owe me some gratitude for 
having saved your life.” 

“ I owe you much, and I will pay it,” cried Publius, 
“as long as there is breath in this body — but open the 
door, I beseech you, I implore you — ” 

“Hear me to the end, time presses; hear me out, 
Publius. My sister Irene went away with you. I need 
say nothing about her beauty, but how bright, how 
sweet her nature is you do not know, you cannot know, 
but you will find out. She, you must be told, is as 
poor as I am, but the child of freeborn and noble 
parents. Now swear to me, swear — no, do not inter- 
rupt me — swear by the head of your father that you will 
never abandon her, that you will never behave to her 
otherwise than as if she were the daughter of your dear- 
est friend or of your own brother.” 

“ I swear it and I will keep my oath — by the life of 
the man whose head is more sacred to me than the 
names of all the gods. But now I beseech you, I com- 
mand you open this door, Klea — that I may not lose 
you — that I may tell you that my whole heart is yours, 
and yours alone — that I love you, love you unbound- 
edly.” 

“ I have your oath,” cried the girl in great excite- 
ment, for she could now see a shadow moving back- 


286 


THE SISTERS. 


wards and forwards at some distance in the desert. 
“You have sworn by the head of your father. Never 
let Irene repent having gone with you, and love her 
always as you fancy now, in this moment, that you love 
me, your preserver. Remember both of you the hap- 
less Klea who would gladly have lived for you, but who 
now gladly dies for you. Do not forget me, Publius, 
for I have never but this once opened my heart to love, — 
but I have loved you Publius, with pain and torment, and 
with sweet delight — as no other woman ever yet revelled 
in the ecstasy of love or was consumed in its torments.” 
She almost shouted the .last words at the Roman as if 
she were chanting a hymn of triumph, beside herself, 
forgetting everything and as if intoxicated. 

Why was he now silent, why had he nothing to 
answer, since she had confessed to him the deepest 
secret of her breast, and allowed him to look into the 
inmost sanctuary of her heart? A rush of burning 
words from his lips would have - driven her off at once 
to the desert and to death; his silence held her back — 
it puzzled her and dropped like cool rain on the soaring 
flames of her pride, fell on the raging turmoil of her 
soul like oil on troubled) water. She could not part 
from him thus, and her lips parted to call him once more 
by his name. 

While she had been making confession of her love to 
the Roman as if it were her last will and testament, 
Publius felt like a man dying of thirst, who has been 
led to a flowing well only to be forbidden to moisten his 
lips with the limpid fluid. His soul was filled with pas- 
sionate rage approaching to despair, and as with rolling 
eyes he glanced round his prison an iron crow-bar lean- 
ing against the wall met his gaze; it had been used by 


287 


THE SISTERS. 

the workmen to lift the sarcophagus of the last deceased 
Apis into its right place. He seized upon this tool, as 
a drowning man flings himself on a floating plank: still 
he heard Klea’s last words, and did not lose one of 
them, though the sweat poured from his brow as he in- 
serted the metal lever like a wedge between the two 
halves of the door, just above the threshold. 

All was now silent outside ; perhaps the distracted 
girl was already hurrying towards the assassins — and 
the door was fearfully heavy and would not open nor 
yield. But he must force it — he flung himself on the 
earth and thrust his shoulder under the lever, pushing 
his whole body against the' iron bar, so that it seemed 
to him that every joint threatened to give way and 
every sinew to crack; the door rose- — once more he put 
forth the whole strength of his manly vigor, and now 
the seam in the wood cracked, the door flew open, and 
Kiea, seized with terror, flew off and away — into the 
desert — straight towards the murderers. 

Publius leaped to his feet and flung himself out of 
his prison; as he saw Klea escape he flew after her 
with hasty leaps, and caught her in a few steps, for her 
mantle hindered her in running, and when she would 
not obey his desire that she should stand still he stood 
in front of her and said, not tenderly but sternly and 
decidedly : 

“You do not go a step farther, I forbid it.” 

“I am going where I must go,” cried the girl in 
great agitation. “ Let me go, at once ! ” 

“ You will stay here — here with me,” snarled Pub- 
lius, and taking both her hands by the wrists he 
clasped them with his iron fingers as with handcuffs. 
“ I am the man and you are the woman, and I will 


-88 


THE SISTERS. 


teach you who is to give orders here and who is to 

obey.” 

Anger and rage prompted these quite unpremedi- 
tated words, and as Klea — while he spoke them with 
quivering lips — had attempted with the exertion of all 
her strength, which was by no means contemptible, to 
wrench her hands from his grasp, he forced her — angry 
as he still was, but nevertheless with due regard for 
her womanliness — forced her by a gentle and yet 
irresistible pressure on her arms to bend before 
him, and compelled her slowly to sink down on both 
knees. 

As soon as she was in this position, Publius let her 
free ; she covered her eyes with her aching hands and 
sobbed aloud, partly from anger, and because she felt 
herself bitterly humiliated. 

“Now, stand up,” said Publius in an altered tone as 
he heard her weeping. “ Is it then such a hard matter 
to submit to the will of a man who will not and cannot 
let you go, and whom you love, besides ? ” How gen- 
tle and kind the words sounded! Klea, when she 
heard them, raised her eyes to Publius, and as she saw 
him looking down on her as a supplicant her anger 
melted and turned to grateful emotion — she went 
closer to him on her knees, laid her head against him 
and said : 

“ I have always been obliged to rely upon myself, and 
to guide another person with loving counsel, but it 
must be sweeter far to be led by affection and I will 
always, always obey you.” 

“ I will thank you with heart and soul henceforth 
from this hour! ” cried Publius, lifting her up. “You 
were ready to sacrifice your life for me, and now mine 


THE SISTERS. 289 

belongs to you. I am yours and you are mine — I your 
husband, you my wife till our life’s end ! ” 

He laid his hands on her shoulders, and turned her 
face round to his ; she resisted no longer, for it was 
sweet to her to yield her will to that of this strong man. 
And how happy was she, who from her childhood had 
taken it upon herself to be always strong, and self-reli- 
ant, to feel herself the weaker, and to be permitted to 
trust in a stronger arm than her own. Somewhat thus 
a young rose-tree might feel, which for the first time 
receives the support of the prop to which it is tied 
by the careful gardener. 

Her eyes rested blissfully and yet anxiously on his, 
and his lips had just touched hers in a first kiss when 
they started apart in terror, for Klea’s name was dearly 
shouted through the still night-air, and in the next in- 
stant a loud scream rang out close to them followed by 
dull cries of pain. 

“The murderers!” shrieked Klea, and trembling 
for herself and for him she clung closely to her lover’s 
breast. In one brief moment the self-reliant heroine — 
proud in her death-defying valor — had become a weak, 
submissive, dependent woman. 


CHAPTER XXII. 

On the roof of the tower of the pylon by the gate 
of the Serapeum stood an astrologer who had mounted 
to this, the highest part of the temple, to observe the 
stars; but it seemed that he was not destined on this 
occasion to fulfil his task, for swiftly driving black 


290 


THE SISTERS. 


clouds swept again and again across that 'portion, of the 
heavens to which his observations were principally di- 
rected. At last he impatiently laid aside his instruments, 
his waxed tablet and style, and desired the gate-keeper 
— the father of poor little Philo — whose duty it was to 
attend at night on the astrologers on the tower, to carry 
down all his paraphernalia, as the heavens were not 
this evening favorable to his labors. 

“ Favorable ! ” exclaimed the gate-keeper, catching 
up the astrologer’s words, and shrugging his shoulders 
so high that his head disappeared between them; 

“It is a night of horror, and some great disaster 
threatens us for certaiii. Fifteen years have I been in 
my place, and I never saw such a night biit once be- 
fore, and the very next day the soldiers of Antiochus, 
the Syrian king, came and plundered our treasury. Aye 
— and to-night is worse even than that was ; when the 
dog-star first rose a horrible shape with a lion’s mane 
flew across the desert, but it was not till midnight that 
the fearful uproar began, and even you shuddered when 
it broke out in the Apis-cave. Frightful things must be 
coming on us when the sacred bulls rise from the dead 
and butt and storm at the door with their horns to break 
it open. Many a time have I seen the souls of the 
dead fluttering and wheeling and screaming above the 
old mausoleums, and rock-tombs of ancient times. 
Sometimes they would soar up in the air in the form of 
hawks with men’s heads, or like ibises with a slow 
lagging flight, and sometimes sweep over the desert 
like gray shapeless shadows, or glide across the sand 
like snakes; or they would creep out of the tombs, 
howling like hungry dogs. I have often heard them 
barking like jackals or laughing like hyenas when 


THE SISTERS. 


291 


they scent carrion, but to-night is the first time I ever 
heard them shrieking like furious men, and then groaning 
and wailing as if they were plunged in the lake of fire 
and suffering horrible torments. 

“Look there — out there — something is moving 
again ! Oh ! holy father, exorcise them with some 
mighty bann. Do you not see how they are growing 
larger? They are twice the size of ordinary mortals.” 

The astronomer took an amulet in his hand, mut- 
tered a few sentences to himself, seeking at the same 
time to discover the figures which had so scared the 
gate-keeper. 

“They are indeed tall,” he said when he perceived 
them. “And now they are melting into one, and grow- 
ing smaller and smaller — however, perhaps they are 
only men come to rob the tombs, and who happen to 
be particularly tall, for these figures are not of super- 
natural height.” 

“They are twice as tall as you, and you are not 
short,” cried the gate-keeper, pressing his lips devoutly 
to the amulet the astrologer held in his hand, “ and if 
they are robbers why has no watchman called out to 
stop them ? How is it their screams and groans have 
not waked the sentinels that are posted there every 
night ? . There — that was another fearful cry ! Did you 
ever hear such tones from any human breast ? Great 
Serapis, I shall die of fright ! Come down with me, 
holy father, that I may look after my little sick boy, for 
those who have seen such sights do not escape un- 
stricken.” 

The peaceful silence of the Necropolis had indeed 
been disturbed, but the spirits of the departed had no 
share in the horrors which had been transacted this 


292 


THE SISTERS. 


night in the desert, among the monuments and rock- 
tombs. They were living men that had disturbed the 
calm of the sacred place, that had conspired with dark- 
ness in cold-blooded cruelty, greater than that of evil 
spirits, to achieve the destruction of a fellow-man ; but 
they were living men too who, in the midst of the hor- 
rors of a most fearful night, had experienced the blos- 
soming in their own souls of the divinest germ which 
heaven implants in the bosom of its mortal children. 
Thus in a day of battle amid blood and slaughter may 
a child be born that shall grow up blessed and blessing, 
the comfort and joy of his family. 

The lion-maned monster whose appearance and 
rapid disappearance in the desert had first alarmed the 
gate-keeper, had been met by several travellers on its 
way to Memphis, and each and all, horrified by its un- 
canny aspect, had taken to flight or tried to hide them- 
selves — and yet it was no more than a man with warm 
pulses, an honest purpose, and a true and loving heart. 
But those who met him could not see into his soul, and 
his external aspect certainly bore little resemblance to 
that of other men. 

His feet, unused to walking, moved but clumsily, 
and had a heavy body to carry, and his enormous beard 
and the mass of gray hair on his head — which he turned 
now this way and now that — gave him an aspect 
that might well scare even a bold man who should 
meet him unexpectedly. Two stall-keepers who, by 
day, were accustomed to offer their wares for sale 
near the Serapeum to the pilgrims, met him close to 
the city. 

“ Did you see that panting object ? ” said one to 
the other as they looked after him. “If he were not 


THE SISTERS. 


293 


shut up fast in his cell I could declare it was Serapion, 
the recluse.” 

“ Nonsense,” replied the other. “ He is tied faster 
by his oath than by chains and fetters. It must be one 
of the Syrian beggars that besiege the temple of 
Astarte.” 

“ Perhaps,” answered his companion with indiffer- 
ence. *• Let us get on now, my wife has a roast goose 
for supper this evening.” 

Serapion, it is true, was fast tied to his cell, and yet 
the pedler had judged rightly, for he it was who hurried 
along the high-road frightening all he met. . After 
his long captivity walking was very painful to him ; be- 
sides, he was barefoot, and every stone in the path hurt 
the soles of his feet which had grown soft ; nevertheless 
he contrived to make a by no means contemptible 
pace when in the distance he caught sight of a woman’s 
figure which he could fancy to be Klea. Many a man, 
who in his own particular sphere of life can cut a very 
respectable figure, becomes a laughing-stock for chil- 
dren when he is taken out of his own narrow circle, and 
thrown into the turmoil of the world with all his pecu- 
liarities clinging to him. So it was with Serapion ; in 
the suburbs the street-boys ran after him mocking at 
him, but it was not till three smart hussys, who were 
resting from their dance in front of a tavern, laughed 
loudly as they caught sight of him, and an insolent sol- 
dier drove the point of his lance through his flowing 
mane, as if by accident, that he became fully conscious 
of his wild appearance, and it struck him forcibly 
that he could never in this guise find admission to the 
king’s palace. 

With prompt determination he turned into the first 


294 


THE SISTERS. 


barber’s stall that he saw lighted up ; at his appearance 
the barber hastily retreated behind his counter, but he 
got his hair and beard cut, and then, for the first time 
for many years, he saw his own face in the mirror that 
the barber held before him. He nodded, with a melan- 
choly smile, at the face — so much aged — that looked at 
him from the bright surface, paid what was asked, and 
did not heed the compassionate glance which the bar- 
ber and his assistant sent after him. They both thought 
they had been exercising their skill on a lunatic, for he 
had made no answer to all their questions, and had said 
nothing but once in a deep and fearfully loud voice : 

“ Chatter to other people — I am in a hurry.” 

In truth his spirit was in no mood for idle gossip ; 
no, it was full of gnawing anxiety and tender fears, and 
his heart bled when he reflected that he had broken his 
vows, and forsworn the oath he had made to his dying 
mother. 

When he reached the palace-gate he begged one of 
the civic guard to conduct him to his brother, and as he 
backed his request with a gift of money he was led at 
once to the man whom he sought. Glaucus was exces- 
sively startled to recognize Serapion, but he was so 
much engaged that he could only give up a few minutes 
to his brother, whose proceedings he considered as both 
inexplicable and criminal. 

Irene, as the anchorite now learned, had been car- 
ried off from the temple, not by Euergetes but by the 
Roman, and Klea had quitted the palace only a few 
minutes since in a chariot and would return about mid- 
night and on foot from the second tavern to the temple. 
And the poor child was so utterly alone, and her way lay 
through the desert where she might be attacked by dis- 


THE SISTERS. 


2 95 


solute soldiery or tomb-robbers or jackals and hyenas. 
Her walk was to begin from the second tavern, and that 
was the very spot where low rioters were wont to as- 
semble — and his darling was so young, so fair, and so 
defenceless ! 

He was once more a prey to the same unendurable 
dread that had come.over him, in his cell, after Klea had 
left the temple and.darkness had closed in. At that mo- 
ment he had felt all that a father could feel who from his 
prison-window sees his beloved and defenceless child 
snatched away, by some beast of prey. All the perils that 
could threaten her in the palace or in the city, swarm- 
ing with drunken soldiers, had risen before his mind 
with fearful vividness, and his powerful imagination had 
painted in glaring colors all the dangers to which his 
favorite-^the daughter of a noble and respected man — 
might be exposed. 

He rushed up and down his cell like a wounded 
tiger, he flung himself against the walls, and then, with 
his body hanging far out of the window, had looked out 
to see if the girl — who could not possibly have returned 
yet — were not come back again. The darker it grew, 
the more his . anguish, rose, and the more hideous were 
the pictures that .stood before his fancy; and when, 
presently, a pilgrim in, the Pastophorium who had fallen 
into convulsions screamed out loud, he was no longer 
master of himself — he kicked open the door which, 
locked on, the outside and rotten from age, had been 
closed for years, hastily concealed about him some silver 
coins he kept. in his chest, and let himself down to the 
ground. 

There he stood, between his cell and the outer wall 
of the temple, and now it was that he remembered his 


296 


THE SISTERS. 


vows, and the oath he had sworn, and his former flight 
from his retreat. Then he had fled because the pleas- 
ures and joys of life had tempted him forth — then he 
had sinned indeed ; but now the love, the anxious care 
that urged him to quit his prison were the same as had 
brought him back to it. It was to keep faith that he 
now broke faith, and mighty Serapis could read his 
heart, and his mother was dead, and while she lived 
she had always been ready and willing to forgive. 

He fancied so vividly that he could see her kind old 
face looking at him that he nodded at her as if indeed 
she stood before him. 

Then, he rolled an empty barrel to the foot of the 
wall, and with some difficulty mounted on it. The sweat 
poured down him as he climbed up the wall built of 
loose unbaked bricks to the parapet, which was much 
more than a man’s height; then, sliding and tumbling, 
he found himself in the ditch which ran round it on the 
outside, scrambled up its outer slope, and set out at last 
on his walk to Memphis. 

What he had afterwards learned in the palace con- 
cerning Klea had but little relieved his anxiety on her 
account; she must have reached the border of the desert 
so much sooner than he, and quick walking was so diffi- 
cult to him, and hurt the soles of his feet so cruelly ! 
Perhaps he might be able to procure a staff, but there 
was just as much bustle outside the gate of the citadel 
as by day. He looked round him, feeling the while in 
his wallet, which was well filled with silver, and his eye 
fell on a row of asses whose drivers were crowding 
round the soldiers and servants that streamed out of 
the great gate. 

He sought out the strongest of the beasts with an 


THE SISTERS. 


297 


experienced eye, flung a piece of silver to the owner, 
mounted the ass, which panted under its load, and 
promised the driver two drachmae in addition if he 
would take him as quickly as possible to the second 
tavern on the road to the Serapeum. Thus — he be- 
laboring the sides of the unhappy donkey with his sturdy 
bare legs, while the driver, running after him snorting 
and shouting, from time to time poked him up from 
behind with a stick— Serapion, now going at a short 
trot, and now at a brisk gallop, reached his destination 
only half an hour later than Klea. 

In the tavern all was dark and empty, but the re- 
cluse desired no refreshment. Only his wish that he 
had a staff revived in his mind, and he soon contrived 
to possess himself of one, by pulling a stake out of the 
fence that surrounded the innkeeper’s little garden. 
This was a somewhat heavy walking-stick, but it eased 
the recluse’s steps, for though his hot and aching feet 
carried him but painfully the strength of his arms was 
considerable. 

The quick ride had diverted his mind, had even 
amused him, for he was easily pleased, and had recalled 
to him his youthful travels; but now, as he walked on 
alone in the desert, his thoughts reverted to Klea, and 
to her only. 

He looked round for her keenly and eagerly as soon 
as the moon came out from behind the clouds, called 
her name from time to time, and thus got as far as the 
avenue of sphinxes which connected the Greek and 
Egyptian temples ; a thumping noise fell upon his ear 
from the cave of the Apis-tombs. Perhaps they were 
at work in there, preparing for the approaching festival. 
But why were the soldiers, which were always on guard 
20 


298 


THE SISTERS. 

here, absent from their posts to-night? Could it be that 
they had observed Klea, and carried her off? 

On the farther side of the rows of sphinxes too, 
which he had now reached, there was not a man to be 
seen — not a watchman even — though the white lime- 
stone of the tombstones and the yellow desert-sand 
shone as clear in the moonlight as if they had some in- 
ternal light of their own. 

At every instant he grew more and more uneasy, he 
climbed to the top of a sand-hill to obtain a wider 
view, and loudly called Klea’s name. 

There — was he deceived? No — there was a figure 
visible near one of the ancient tomb-shrines — a form 
that seemed wrapped in a long robe, and when once 
more he raised his voice in a loud call it came nearer to 
him and to the row of sphinxes. In greate haste and as 
fast as he could he got down again to the roadway, 
hurried across the smooth pavement, on both sides of 
which the long perspective of man-headed lions kept 
guard, and painfully clambered up a sand-heap on the 
opposite side. This was in truth a painful effort, for the 
sand crumbled away again and again under his feet, 
slipping down hill and carrying him with it, thus com- 
pelling him to find a new hold with hand and foot. At 
last he was standing on the outer border of the sphinx- 
avenue and opposite the very shrine where he fancied 
he had seen her whom he sought; but during his clam- 
ber it had become perfectly dark again, for a heavy 
cloud had once more veiled the moon. He put both 
hands to his mouth, and shouted as loud as he could, 
“ Klea ! ’’—and then again, “ Klea ! ” 

Then, close at his feet he heard a rustle in the sand, 
and saw a figure moving before him as though it had 


THE SISTERS. 


299 

risen out of the ground. This could not be Klea, it 
was a man- — still, perhaps, he might have seen his dar- 
ling — but before he had time to address him he felt the 
shock of a heavy blow that fell with tremendous force 
on his back between his shoulders. The assassin’s 
sand-bag had missed the exact spot on the nape of the 
neck, and Serapion’s strongly-knit backbone would have 
been able to resist even a stronger blow. 

The conviction that he was attacked by robbers 
flashed on his consciousness as immediately as the sense 
of pain, and with it the certainty that he was a lost man 
if he did not defend himself stoutly. 

Behind him he heard another rustle in the sand. As 
quickly as he could he turned round with an exclama- 
tion of “Accursed brood of vipers! ” and with his heavy 
staff he fell upon the figure before him like a smith beat- 
ing cold iron, for his eye, now more accustomed to the 
darkness, plainly saw it to be a man. Serapion must 
have hit straight, for his foe fell at his feet with a hideous 
roar, rolled over and over in the sand, groaning and 
panting, and then with one shrill shriek lay silent and 
motionless. 

The recluse, in spite of the dim light, could see all 
the movements of the robber he had punished so 
severely, and he was bending over the fallen man 
anxiously and compassionately when he shuddered to 
feel two clammy hands touching his feet, and immedi- 
ately after two sharp pricks in his right heel, which were 
so acutely painful that he screamed aloud, and was 
obliged to lift up the wounded foot. At the same time, 
however, he did not overlook the need to defend him- 
self. Roaring like a wounded bull, cursing and raging, 
he laid about him on all sides with his staff, but hit 


300 


THE SISTERS. 


nothing but the ground. Then as his blows followed 
each other more slowly, and at last his wearied arms 
could no longer wield the heavy stake, and he found 
himself compelled to sink on his knees, a hoarse voice 
addressed him thus : 

“You have taken my comrade’s life, Roman, and a 
two-legged serpent has stung you for it. In a quarter 
of an hour it will be all over with you, as it is with that 
fellow there. Why does a fine gentleman like you go to 
keep an appointment in the desert without boots or san- 
dals, and so make our work so easy ? King Euergetes 
and your friend Eulaeus send you their greetings. You 
owe it to them that I leave you even your ready money; 
I wish I could only carry away that dead lump there!” 

During this rough speech Serapionwas lying on the 
ground in great agony; he could only clench his fists, 
and groan out heavy curses with his lips which were 
now getting parched. His sight was as yet undimmed, 
and he could distinctly see by the light of the moon, 
which now shone forth from a broad cloudless opening 
in the sky, that the murderer attempted to carry away 
his fallen comrade, and then, after raising his head to 
listen for a moment sprang off with flying steps away 
into the desert. But the recluse now lost consciousness, 
and when some minutes later he once more opened his 
eyes his head was resting softly in the lap of a young 
girl, and it was the voice of his beloved Klea that asked 
him tenderly. 

“You poor dear father! How came you here in the 
desert, and into the hands of these murderers ? Do you 
know me — your Klea ? And he who is looking for your 
wounds — which are not visible at all — he is the Roman 
Publius Scipio. Now first tell us where the dagger hit 


THE SISTERS. 


301 

you that I may bind it up quickly — I am half a physi- 
cian, and understand these things as you know.” 

The recluse tried to turn his head towards Klea’s, 
but the effort was in vain, and he said in a low voice: 

“ Prop me up against the slanting wall of the tomb- 
shrine yonder; and you, child, sit down opposite to me, 
for I would fain look at you while I die. Gently, gently, 
my friend Publius, for I feel as if all my limbs were 
made of Phoenician glass, and might break at the least 
touch. Thank you, my young friend — you have strong 
arms, and you may lift me a little higher yet. So — now 
I can bear it; nay, I am well content, I am to be en- 
vied — for the moon shows me your dear face, my child, 
and I see tears on your cheeks, tears for me, a surly old 
man. Aye, it is good, it is very good to die thus.” 

“ Oh, father, father!” cried Klea. “You must not 
speak so. You must live, you must not die; for see, 
Publius here asks me to be his wife, and the Immortals 
only can know how glad I am to go with him, and 
Irene is to stay with us, and be my sister and his. That 
must make you happy, father. — But tell us, pray tell us 
where the wound hurts that the murderer gave you ? ” 

“Children, children,” murmured the anchorite, 
and a happy smile parted his lips. “The gracious 
gods are merciful in permitting me to see that — aye, 
merciful to me, and to effect that end I would have died 
twenty deaths.” 

Klea pressed his now cold hand to her lips as he 
spoke and again asked, though hardly able to control 
her voice for tears: 

“But the wound, father — where is the wound?” 

“Let be, let be,” replied Serapion. “It is acrid 
poison, not a dagger or dart that has undone my 


3°2 


THE SISTERS. 


strength. And I can depart in peace, for I am no 
longer needed for anything. You, Publius, must now 
take my place with this child, and will do it better than 
I. Klea, the wife of Publius Scipio! I indeed have 
dreamt that such a thing might come to pass, — and I 
always knew, and have said to myself a thousand times 
what I now say to you my son : This girl here, this 
Klea is of a good sort, and worthy only of the noblest. 
I give her to you, my son Publius, and now join your 
hands before me here — for I have always been like a 
father to her.” 

“That you have indeed,” sobbed Klea. “And it 
was no doubt for my sake, and to protect me, that you 
quitted your retreat, and have met your death.” 

“ It was fate, it was fate,” stammered the old man. 

“The assassins were in ambush for me,” cried Pub- 
lius, seizing Serapion’s hand, “ the murderers who fell 
on you instead of me. Once more, where is your 
wound ? ” 

“ My destiny fulfils itself,” replied the recluse. “ No 
locked-up cell, no physician, no healing herb can avail 
against the degrees of Fate. I am dying of a serpent’s 
sting as it was foretold at my birth; and if I had not 
gone out to seek Klea a serpent would have slipped in- 
to my cage, and have ended my life there. Give me 
your hands, my children, for a deadly chill is creeping 
over me, and its cold hand already touches my heart.” 

For a few minutes his voice failed him, and then he 
said softly: 

“ One thing I would fain ask of you. My little pos- 
sessions, which were intended for you and Irene, you 
will now use to bury me. I do not wish to be burnt, 
as they did with my father — no, I should wish to be 


THE SISTERS 


3°3 

finely embalmed, and my mummy to be placed with my 
mother’s. If indeed we may meet again after death — 
and I believe we shall — I would rather see her once 
more than any one, for she loved me so much — and I 
feel now as if I were a child again, and could throw my 
arms round her neck. In another life, perhaps, I may 
not be the child of misfortune that I have been in this 
— in another life — now it grips my heart — in another — 
Children whatever joys have smiled on me in this, chil- 
dren, it was to you I have owed it — Klea, to you — and 
there is my little Irene too — ” 

These were the last words of Serapion the recluse; 
he fell back with a deep sigh and was dead. Klea and 
Publius tenderly closed his faithful eyes. 


CHAPTER XXIII. 

The unwonted tumult that had broken the stillness 
of the night had not been unobserved in the Greek Ser- 
apeum any more than in the Egyptian temple adjoining 
the Apis-tombs; but perfect silence once more reigned 
in the Necropolis, when at last the great gate of the 
sanctuary of Osiris-Apis was thrown open, and a little 
troop of priests arranged in a procession came out from 
it with a vanguard of temple servants, who had been 
armed with sacrificial knives and axes. 

. Publius and Klea, who were keeping faithful watch 
by the body of their dead friend, saw them approaching, 
and the Roman said: 

“It would have been even less right in such a night 
as this to let you proceed to one of the temples with- 


3 ° 4 


THE SISTERS. 


out my escort than to have let our poor friend remain 
unwatched.” 

“ Once more I assure you,” said Klea eagerly “ that 
we should have thrown away every chance of fulfilling 
Serapion’s last wish as he intended, if during our absence 
a jackal or a hyena had mutilated his body, and I am 
happy to be able at least to prove to my friend, now he 
is dead, how grateful I am for all the kindness he showed 
us while he lived. We ought to be grateful even to 
the departed, for how still and blissful has this hour 
been while guarding his body. Storm and strife brought 
us together — ” 

“And here,” interrupted Publius, “we have con- 
cluded a happy and permanent treaty of peace for the 
rest of our lives.” 

“I accept it willingly,” replied Klea, looking down, 
“for I am the vanquished party.” 

“ But you have already confessed,” said Publius, “that 
you were never so unhappy as when you thought you had 
asserted your strength against mine, and I can tell you 
that you never seemed to me so great and yet so lovable 
as when in the midst of your triumph, you gave up the 
battle for lost. Such an hour as that, a man experiences 
but once in his lifetime. I have a good memory, but if 
ever I should forget it, and be angry and passionate — as 
is sometimes my way — remind me of this spot, or of this 
our dead friend, and my hard mood will melt, and I 
shall remember that you once were ready to give your 
life for mine. I will make it easy for you, for in honor 
of this man, who sacrificed his life for yours and who 
was actually murdered in my stead, I promise to add 
his name of Serapion to my own, and I will confirm this 
vow in Rome. He has behaved to us as a father, and 


THE SISTERS. 


305 

it behoves me to reverence his memory as though I had 
been his son. An obligation was always unendurable 
to me, and how I shall ever make full restitution to you 
for what you have done for me this night I . do not yet 
know — and yet I should be ready and willing every day 
and every hour to accept from you some new gift of 
love. ‘A debtor/ says the proverb, ‘is half a prisoner,’ 
and so I must entreat you to deal mercifully with your 
conquerer.” 

He took her hand, stroked back the hair from her 
forehead, and touched it lightly with his lips. Then he 
went on: 

“ Come with me now that we may commit the dead 
into the hands of these priests.” 

Klea once more bent over the remains of the an- 
chorite, she hung the amulet he had given her for her 
journey round his neck, and then silently obeyed her 
lover. When they came up with the little procession 
Publius informed the chief priest how he had found 
Serapion, and requested him to fetch away the corpse, 
and to cause it to be prepared for interment in the cost- 
liest manner in the embalming house attached to their 
temple. Some of the temple-servants took their places 
to keep watch over the body, and after many questions 
addressed to Publius, and after examining too the body 
of the assassin who had been slain, the priests returned 
to the temple. 

As soon as the two lovers were left alone again Klea 
seized the Roman’s hand, and said passionately: 

“You have spoken many tender words to me, and I 
thank you for them; but I am wont always to be honest, 
and less than any one could I deceive you. Whatever 
your love bestows upon me will always be a free gift, 


306 


THE SISTERS. 


since you owe me nothing at all and I owe you infinitely 
much; for I know now that you have snatched my 
sister from the clutches of the mightiest in the land while 
I, when I heard that Irene had gone away with you, 
and that murder threatened your life, believed implicitly 
that on the contrary you had lured the child away to 
become your sweetheart, and then — then I hated you, 
and then — I must confess it — in my horrible distraction 
I wished you dead ! ” 

“ And you think that wish can offend me or hurt 
me?” said Publius. “No, my child; it only proves to 
me that you love me as I could wish to be loved. 
Such rage under such circumstances is but the dark 
shadow cast by love, and is as inseparable from love as 
from any tangible body. Where it is absent there is no 
such thing as real love present — only an airy vision, a 
phantom, a mockery. Such an one as Klea does not 
love nor hate by halves; but there are mysterious work- 
ings in your soul as in that of every other woman. 
How did the wish that you could see me dead turn into 
the fearful resolve to let yourself be killed in my stead ? ” 

“ I saw the murderers,” answered Klea, “ and I was 
overwhelmed with horror of them and of their schemes, 
and of all that had to do with them ; I would not de- 
stroy Irene’s happiness, and I loved you even more 
deeply than I hated you ; and then — but let us not speak 
of it.” 

“Nay — tell me all.” 

“Then there was a moment — ” 

“Well, Klea?” 

“Then — In these last hours, while we have been 
sitting hand in hand by the body of poor Serapion, and 
hardly speaking, I have felt it all over again — then the 


THE SISTERS. 


3°7 


midnight hymn of the priests fell upon my heart, and as 
I lifted up my soul in prayer at their pious chant I felt 
as if all my inmost heart had been frozen and hardened, 
and was reviving again to new life and tenderness and 
warmth. I could not help thinking of all that is good 
and right, and I made up my mind to sacrifice myself 
for you and for Irene’s happiness far more quickly and 
easily than I could give it up afterwards. My father 
was one of the followers of Zeno — ” 

“ And you,” interrupted Publius, “ thought you were 
acting in accordance with the doctrine of the Stoa. I 
also am familiar with it, but I do not know the man 
who is so virtuous and wise that he can live and act, as 
that teaching prescribes, in the heat of the struggle of 
life, or who is the living representative in flesh and blood 
of the whole code of ethics, not sinning against one of 
its laws and embodying it in himself. Did you ever 
hear of the peace of mind, the lofty indifference and 
equanimity of the Stoic sages? You look as if the 
question offended you, but you did not by any means 
know how to attain that magnanimity, for I have seen 
you fail in it; indeed it is contrary to the very nature of 
woman, and — the gods be thanked — you are not a Stoic 
in woman’s dress, but a woman — a true woman, as you 
should be. You have learned nothing from Zeno and 
Chrysippus but what any peasant girl might learn from 
an honest father, to be true I mean and to love virtue. 
Be content with that; I am more than satisfied.” 

“Oh, Publius,” exclaimed the girl, grasping her 
friend’s hand. “ I understand you, and I know that you 
are right. A woman must be miserable so long as she 
fancies herself strong, and imagines and feels that she 
needs no other support than her own firm will and de- 


3°8 


THE SISTERS. 


termination, no other counsel than some wise doctrine 
which she accepts and adheres to. Before I could call 
you mine, and went on my own way, proud of my own 
virtue, I was — I cannot bear to think of it — but half a 
soul, and took it for a whole; but now — if now fate 
were to snatch you from me, I should still know where 
to seek the support on which I might lean in need and 
despair. Not in the Stoa, not in herself can a woman 
find such a stay, but in pious dependence on the help 
of the gods.” 

“I am a man,” interrupted Publius, “and yet I 
sacrifice to them and yield ready obedience to their de- 
crees.” 

“ But,” cried Klea, “ I saw yesterday in the temple 
of Serapis the meanest things done by his ministers, and 
it pained me and disgusted me, and I lost my hold on 
the divinity; but the extremest anguish and deepest 
love have led me to find it again. I can no longer con- 
ceive of the power that upholds the universe as without 
love nor of the love that makes men happy as other than 
divine. Any one who has once prayed for a being they 
love as I prayed for you in the desert can never again 
forget how to pray. Such prayers indeed are not in 
vain. Even if no god can hear them there is a strength- 
ening virtue in such prayer itself. 

“Now I will go contentedly back to our temple till 
you fetch me, for I know that the discreetest, wisest, 
and kindest Beings will watch over our love.” 

“You will not accompany me to Apollodorus and 
Irene?” asked Publius in surprise. 

“No,” answered Klea firmly. “Rather take me 
back to the Serapeum. I have not yet been released 
from the duties I undertook there, and it will be more 


THE SISTERS. 


3 ° 9 


worthy of us both that Asclepiodorus should give you 
the daughter of Philotas as your wife than that you 
should be married to a runaway serving-maid of Se- 
rapis.” 

Publius considered for a moment, and then he said 
eagerly : 

“ Still I would rather you should come with me. You 
must be dreadfully tired, but I could take you on my 
mule to Apollodorus. I care little for what men say of 
me when I am sure I am doing right, and I shall know 
how to protect you against Euergetes whether you wish 
to be readmitted to the temple or accompany me to 
the sculptor. But do come — it will be hard on me to 
part from you again. The victor does not lay aside the 
crown when he has just won it in hard fight.” 

“Still I entreat you to take me back to the Sera- 
peum,” said Klea, laying her hand in that of Publius. 

“Is the way to Memphis too long, are you utterly 
tired out?” 

“I am much wearied by agitation and terror, by 
anxiety and happiness, still I could very well bear the 
ride ; but I beg of you to take me' back to the temple,” 

“ What — although you feel strong enough to remain 
with me, and in spite of my desire to conduct you at 
once to Apollodorus and Irene?” asked Publius aston- 
ished, and he withdrew his hand. “The mule is wait- 
ing out there. Lean on my arm. Come and do as I 
request you.” 

“No, Publius, no. You are my lord and master, 
and I will always obey you unresistingly. In one thing 
only let me have my own way, now and in the future. 
As to what becomes a woman I know better than you, 
it is a thing that none but a woman can decide.” 


3 IQ 


THE SISTERS. 


Publius made no reply to these words, but he kissed 
her, and threw his arm round her; and so, clasped in 
each other’s embrace, they reached the gate of the Sera- 
peum, there to part for a few hours. 

Klea was let into the temple, and as soon as she had 
learned that little Philo was much better, she threw her- 
self on her humble bed. 

How lonely her room seemed, how intolerably empty 
without Irene. In obedience to a hasty impulse she 
quitted her own bed, lay herself down on her sister’s, as 
if that brought her nearer to the absent girl, and closed 
her eyes; but she was too much excited and too much 
exhausted to sleep soundly. Swiftly-changing visions 
broke in again and again on her sincerely devotional 
thoughts and her restless half-sleep, painting to her fancy 
now wondrously bright images, and now most horrible 
ones — now pictures of exquisite happiness, and again 
others of dismal melancholy. And all the time she 
imagined she heard distant music and was being rocked 
up and down by unseen hands. 

Still the image of the Roman overpowered all the 
rest. 

At last a refreshing sleep sealed her eyes more 
closely, and in her dream she saw her lover’s house in 
Rome, his stately father, his noble mother — who seemed 
to her to bear a likeness to her own mother — and the 
figures of a number of tall and dignified senators. She 
felt herself much embarrassed among all these strangers, 
who looked enquiringly at her, and then kindly held out 
their hands to her. Even the dignified matron came to 
meet her with effusion, and clasped her to her breast ; 
but just as Publius had opened his arms to her and she 
flew to his heart, and she fancied she could feel his lips 


THE SISTERS. 


3 11 

pressed to hers, the woman, who called her every 
morning, knocked at her door and awoke her. 

This time she had been happy in her dream and 
would willingly have slept again • but she forced her- 
self to rise from her bed, and before the sun was quite 
risen she was standing by the Well of the Sun and, not 
to neglect her duty, she filled both the jars for the altar 
of the god. 

Tired and half-overcome by sleep, she set the gol- 
den vessels in their place, and sat down to rest at the 
foot of a pillar, while a priest poured out the water she 
had brought, as a drink-offering on the ground. 

It was now broad daylight as she looked out into 
the forecourt through the many-pillared hall of the tem- 
ple ; the early sunlight played round the columns, and 
its slanting rays, at this hour, fell through the tall door- 
way far into the great hall which usually lay in twilight 
gloom. 

The sacred spot looked very solemn in her eyes, 
sublime, and as it were reconsecrated, and obeying an 
irresistible impulse she leaned against a column, and 
lifting up her arms, and raising her eyes, she uttered her 
thankfulness to the god for his loving kindness, and 
found but one thing to pray for, namely that he would 
preserve Publius and Irene, and all mankind, from sor- 
row and anxiety and deception. 

She felt as if her heart had till now been benighted 
and dark, and had just disclosed some latent light — as 
if it had been withered and dry, and was now blossom- 
ing in fresh verdure and brightly -colored flowers. 

To act virtuously is granted even to those who, re- 
lying on themselves, earnestly strive to lead moral, just, 
gnd honest lives ; but the happy tmioq of virtue an<j 


3 12 


THE SISTERS. 


pure inner happiness is solemnized only in the heart 
which is able to seek and find a God — be it Serapis or 
Jehovah. 

At the door of the forecourt Klea was met by 
Asclepiodorus, who desired her to follow him. The 
high-priest had learned that she had secretly quitted the 
temple : when she was alone with him in a quiet room 
he asked her gravely and severely, why she had broken 
the laws and left the sanctuary without his permission. 
Klea told him, that terror for her sister had driven her 
to Memphis, and that she there had heard that Publius 
Cornelius Scipio, the Roman who had taken up her 
father’s cause, had saved Irene from king Euergetes, 
and placed her in safety, and that then she had set out 
on her way home in the middle of the night. 

The high-priest seemed pleased at her news, and 
when she proceeded to inform him that Serapion had 
forsaken his cell out of anxiety for her, and had met his 
death in the desert, he said : 

“ I knew all that, my child. May the gods forgive 
the recluse, and may Serapis show him mercy in the 
other world in spite of his broken oath ! His destiny 
had to be fulfilled. You, child, were born under happier 
stars than he, and it is within my power to let you go 
unpunished. This I do willingly; and Klea, if my 
daughter Andromeda grows up, I can only wish that 
she may resemble you* this is the highest praise that a 
father can bestow on another man’s daughter. As head 
of this temple I command you to fill your jars to-day, 
as usual, till one who is worthy of you comes to me, 
and asks you for his wife. I suspect he will not be 
long to wait for.” 

“ How do you know, father, — ” asked Klea, coloring. 


THE SISTERS. 


3*3 


“ I can read it in your eyes,” said Asclepiodorus, 
and he gazed kindly after her as, at a sign from him, 
she quitted the room. 

As soon as he was alone he sent for his secretary 
and said : 

“ King Philometor has commanded that his brother 
Euergetes’ birthday shall be kept to-day in Memphis. 
Let all the standards be hoisted, and the garlands of 
flowers which will presently arrive from Arsinoe be fast- 
ened up on the pylons ; have the animals brought in 
for sacrifice, and arrange a procession for the afternoon. 
All the dwellers in the temple must be carefully attired. 
— But there is another thing; Komanus has been here, 
and has promised us great things in Euergetes’ name, 
and declares that he intends to punish his brother Philo- 
metor for having abducted a girl — Irene — attached to 
our temple. At the same time he requests me to send 
Klea the water-bearer, the sister of the girl who was 
carried off, to Memphis to be examined — but this may 
be deferred. For to-day we will close the temple gates, 
solemnize the festival among ourselves, and allow no 
one to enter our precincts for sacrifice and prayer till 
the fate of the sisters is made certain. If the kings 
themselves make their appearance, and want to bring 
their troops in, we will receive them respectfully as 
becomes us, but we will not give up Klea, but consign 
her to the holy of holies, which even Euergetes dare 
not enter without me ; for in giving up the girl we sac- 
rifice our dignity, and with that ourselves.” 

The secretary bowed, and then announced that two 
of the prophets of Osiris-Apis desired to speak with 
Asclepiodorus. 

“ Klea had met these men in the antechamber as 


21 


3*4 


THE SISTERS. 


she quitted the high-priest, and had seen in the hand of 
one of them the key with which she had opened the 
door of the rock-tomb. She had started, and her con- 
science urged her to go at once to the priest-smith, and 
tell him how ill she had fulfilled her errand. 

When she entered his room Krates was sitting at 
his work with his feet wrapped up, and he was rejoiced 
to see her, for his anxiety for her and for Irene had dis- 
turbed his night’s rest, and towards morning his alarm 
had been much increased by a frightful dream. 

Klea, encouraged by the friendly welcome of the old 
man, who was usually so surly, confessed that she had 
neglected to deliver the key to the smith in the city, 
that she had used it to open the Apis-tombs, and had 
then forgotten to take it out of the new lock. At this 
confession the old man broke out violently, he flung his 
file, and the iron bolt at which he was working, on to 
his work-table, exclaiming : 

“And this is the way you executed your commission. 
It is the first time I ever trusted a woman, and this is 
my reward! All this will bring evil on you and on me, 
and when it is found out that the sanctuary of Apis 
has been desecrated through my fault and yours, they 
will inflict all sorts of penance on me, and with very 
good reason — as for you, they will punish you with 
imprisonment and starvation.” 

“ And yet, father,” Klea calmly replied, “ I feel per- 
fectly guiltless, and perhaps in the same fearful situation 
you might not have acted differently.” 

“ You think so — you dare to believe such a thing ?” 
stormed the old man. “ And if the key and perhaps 
even the lock have been stolen, and if I have done all 
fha£ beautiful and elaborate work in vain ?” 


THE SISTERS. 


3*5 

“ What thief would venture into the sacred tombs ? ” 
asked Klea doubtfully. 

“ What ! are they so unapproachable ? ” interrupted 
Krates. “Why, a miserable creature like you even 
dared to open them. But only wait — only wait; if 
only my feet were not so painful — ” 

“ Listen to me,” said the girl, going closer up to the 
indignant smith. “You are discreet, as you proved to 
me only yesterday ; and if I were to tell you all I went 
through and endured last night you would certainly for- 
give me, that I know.” 

“ If you are not altogether mistaken ! ” shouted the 
smith. “ Those must be strange things indeed which 
could induce me to let such neglect of duty and such a 
misdemeanor pass unpunished.” 

And strange things they were indeed which the old 
man now had to hear, for when Klea had ended her 
narrative of all that had occurred during the past night, 
not her eyes only but those of the old smith too were 
wet with tears. 

“These accursed legs!” he muttered, as his eyes met 
the enquiring glance of the young girl, and he wiped 
the salt dew from his cheeks with the sleeve of his coat. 
“ Aye — a swelled foot like mine is painful, child, and a 
cripple such as I am is not always strong-minded. Old 
women grow like men, and old men grow like women. 
Ah! old age — it is bad to have such feet as mine, but 
what is worse is that memory fades as years advance. 
I believe now that I left the key myself in the door of 
the Apis-tombs last evening, and I will send at once to 
Asclepiodorus, so that he may beg the Egyptians up 
there to forgive ipe— they are indebted to me for many 
small jobs,” 


I 


3 i 6 


THE SISTERS. 


CHAPTER XXIV. 

All the black masses of clouds which during the 
night had darkened the blue sky and hidden the light 
of the moon had now completely disappeared. The 
north-east wind which rose towards morning had floated 
them away, and Zeus, devourer of the clouds, had swal- 
lowed them up to the very last. It was a glorious 
morning, and as the sun rose in the heavens, and pierced 
and burnt up with augmenting haste the pale mist that 
hovered over the Nile, and the vapor that hung — a del- 
icate transparent veil of bluish-grey bombyx-gauze — 
over the eastern slopes, the cool shades of night van- 
ished too from the dusky nooks of the narrow town 
which lay, mile-wide, along the western bank of the 
river. And the intensely brilliant sunlight which now 
bathed the streets and houses, the palaces and temples, 
the gardens and avenues, and the innumerable vessels 
in the harbor of Memphis, was associated with a glow 
of warmth which was welcome even there in the early 
morning of a winter’s day. 

Boats’ captains and sailors were hurrying down to 
the shore of the Nile to avail themselves of the north- 
east breeze to travel southwards against the current, 
and sails were being hoisted and anchors heaved, to an 
accompaniment of loud singing. The quay was so 
crowded with ships that it was difficult to understand 
how those that were ready could ever disentangle them- 
selves, and find their way through those remaining be- 
hind; but each somehow found an outlet by which to 


THE SISTERS. 


317 


reach the navigable stream, and ere long the river was 
swarming with boats, all sailing southwards, and giving 
it the appearance of an endless perspective of camp 
tents set afloat. 

Long strings of camels with high packs, of more 
lightly laden asses, and of dark-colored slaves, were 
passing down the road to the harbor; these last were 
singing, as yet unhurt by the burden of the day, and 
the overseers’ whips were still in their girdles. 

Ox-carts were being laden or coming down to the 
landing-place with goods, and the ship’s captains were 
already beginning to collect round the different great 
merchants — of whom the greater number were Greeks, 
and only a few dressed in Egyptian costume — in order 
to offer their freight for sale, or to hire out their vessels 
for some new expedition. 

The greatest bustle and noise were at a part of the 
quay where, under large tents, the custom-house officials 
were busily engaged, for most vessels first cast anchor 
at Memphis to pay duty or Nile-toll on the “king’s table.” 
The market close to the harbor also was a gay scene; 
there dates and grain, the skins of beasts, and dried fish 
were piled in great heaps, and bleating and bellowing 
herds of cattle were driven together to be sold to the 
highest bidder. 

Soldiers on foot and horseback in gaudy dresses and 
shining armor, mingled with the busy crowd, like pea- 
cocks and gaudy cocks among the fussy swarm of hens 
in a farm yard; lordly courtiers, in holiday dresses 
% of showy red, blue and yellow stuffs, were borne by 
slaves in litters or standing on handsome gilt chari- 
ots; garlanded priests walked about in leng white 
robes, and smartly dressed girls were hurrying down to 


318 the sisters. 

the taverns near the harbor to play the flute or to 
dance. 

The children that were playing about among this 
busy mob looked covetously at the baskets piled high 
with cakes, which the bakers’ boys were carrying so 
cleverly on their heads. The dogs innumerable put up 
their noses as the dealers in such dainties passed near 
them, and many of them set up longing howls when a 
citizen’s wife came by with her slaves, carrying in their 
baskets freshly killed fowls, and juicy meats to roast for 
the festival, among heaps of vegetables and fruits. 

Gardeners’ boys and young girls were bearing gar- 
lands of flowers, festoons and fragrant nosegays, some 
piled on large trays which they carried two and two, 
some on smaller boards or hung on cross poles for one 
to carry; at that part of the quay where the king’s 
barge lay at anchor numbers of workmen were busily 
employed in twining festoons of greenery and flowers 
round the flag-staffs, and in hanging them with lan- 
terns. 

Long files of the ministers of the god — representing 
the five phyla or orders of the priesthood of the whole 
country — were marching, in holiday attire, along the 
harbor-road in the direction of the palace, and the jost- 
ling crowd respectfully made way for them to pass. 
The gleams of festal splendor seemed interwoven with 
the laborious bustle on the quay like scraps of gold 
thread in a dull work-a-day garment. 

Euergetes, brother of the king, was keeping his birth- 
day in Memphis to-day, and all the city was to take 
part in the festivities. 

At thft first hour after sunrise victims had been sac- 
rificed in the temple of Ptah, the most ancient, and 


THE SISTERS. 


3 1 9 


most vast of the sanctuaries of the venerable capital ot 
the Pharaohs; the sacred Apis-bull, but recently intro- 
duced into the temple, was hung all over with golden 
ornaments; early in the morning Euergetes had paid 
his devotions to the sacred beast — which had eaten out 
of his hand, a favorable augury of success for his plans; 
and the building in which the Apis lived, as well as the 
stalls of his mother and of the cows kept for him, had 
been splendidly decked with flowers. 

The citizens of Memphis were not permitted to pur- 
sue their avocations or ply their trades beyond the hour 
of noon; then the markets, the booths, the workshops 
and schools were to be closed, and on the great square 
in front of the temple of Ptah, where the annual fair 
was held, dramas both sacred and profane, and shows 
of all sorts were to be seen, heard and admired by 
men, women and children — provided at the expense of 
the two kings. 

Two men of Alexandria, one an Eolian of Lesbos, 
and the other a Hebrew belonging to the Jewish com- 
munity, but who was not distinguishable by dress or 
accent from his Greek fellow-citizens, greeted each 
other on the quay opposite the landing-place for the 
king’s vessels, some of which were putting out into the 
stream, spreading their purple sails and dipping their 
prows inlaid with ivory and heavily gilt. 

“In a couple of hours,” said the Jew, “I shall be 
travelling homewards. May I offer you a place in my 
boat, or do you propose remaining here to assist at the 
festival and not starting till to-morrow morning ? There 
are all kinds of spectacles to be seen, and when it is 
dark a grand illumination is to take place.” 

“What do I care Tof their barbarian rubbish?” an- 


3 2 ° 


THE SISTERS. 


swered the Lesbian. “Why, the Egyptian music alone 
drives me to distraction. My business is concluded. I 
had inspected the goods brought from Arabia and India 
by way of Berenice and Coptos, and had selected those 
I needed before the vessel that brought them had 
moored in the Mariotic harbor, and other goods will 
have reached Alexandria before me. I will not stay an 
hour longer than is necessary in this horrible place, which 
is as dismal as it is huge. Yesterday I visited the gym- 
nasium and the better class of baths — wretched, I call 
them! It is an insult to the fish-market and the 
horse-ponds of Alexandria to compare them with 
them.” 

“And the theatre!” exclaimed the Jew. “The ex- 
terior one can bear to look at — but the acting! Yes- 
terday they gave the ‘ Thais’ of Menander, and I assure 
you that in Alexandria the woman who dared to im- 
personate the bewitching and cold-hearted Hetaira 
would have been driven off the stage — they would have 
pelted her with rotten apples. Close by me there sat 
a sturdy, brown Egyptian, a sugar-baker or something 
of the kind, who held his sides with laughing, and yet, 
I dare swear, did not understand a word of the comedy. 
But in Memphis it is the fashion to know Greek, even 
among the artisans. May I hope to have you as my 
guest?” 

“With pleasure, with pleasure!” replied the Lesbian. 
“ I was about to look out for a boat. Have you done 
your business to your satisfaction ?” 

“Tolerably!” answered the Jew. “I have pur- 
chased some corn from Upper Egypt, and stored it in 
the granaries here. The whole of that row yonder were 
to let for a mere song, and so we get off cheaply when 


THE SISTE71S. 


3 2I 


we let the wheat lie here instead of at Alexandria where 
granaries are no longer to be had for money.” 

“That is very clever!” replied the Greek. “There 
is bustle enough here in the harbor, but the many 
empty warehouses and the low rents prove how Mem- 
phis is going down. Formerly this city was the empo- 
rium for all vessels, but now for the most part they only 
run in to pay the toll and to take in supplies for their 
crews. This populous place has a big stomach, and 
many trades drive a considerable business here, but most 
of those that fail here are still carried on in Alexandria.” 

“It is the sea that is lacking,” interrupted the Jew; 
“ Memphis trades only with Egypt, and we with the 
whole world. The merchant who sends his goods here 
only load camels, and wretched asses, and flat-bottomed 
Nile-boats, while we in our harbors freight fine sea- 
going vessels. When the winter-storms are past our 
house alone sends twenty triremes with Egyptian wheat 
to Ostia and to Pontus; and your Indian and Arabian 
goods, your imports from the newly opened Ethiopian 
provinces, take up less room, but I should like to know 
how many talents your trade amounted to in the course 
of the past year. Well then, farewell till we meet again 
on my boat; it is called the Euphrosyne, and lies out 
there, exactly opposite the two statues of the old 
king — who can remember these stiff barbarian names ? 
In three hours we start. I have a good cook on board, 
who is not too particular as to the regulations regarding 
food by which my countrymen in Palestine live* and 
you will find a few new books and some capital wine 
from Byblos.” 

“Then we need not dread a head- wind,” laughed 
the Lesbian. “We meet again in three hours.” 


322 


THE SISTERS. 


The Israelite waved his hand to his travelling 
companion, and proceeded at first along the shore 
under the shade of an alley of sycamores with their 
broad unsymmetrical heads of foliage, but presently 
he turned aside into a narrow street which led from 
the quay to the city. He stood still for a moment 
opposite the entrance of the corner house, one side 
of which lay parallel to the stream while the other 
— exhibiting the front door, and a small oil-shop — 
faced the street; his attention had been attracted to 
it by a strange scene; but he had still much to attend 
to before starting on his journey, and he soon hur- 
ried on again without noticing a tall man who came 
towards him, wearing a travelling-hat and a cloak 
such as was usually adapted only for making jour- 
neys. 

The house at which the Jew had gazed so fixedly 
was that of Apollodorus, the sculptor, and the man who 
was so strangely dressed for a walk through the city at 
this hour of the day was the Roman, Publius Scipio. 
He seemed to be still more attracted by what was going 
on in the little stall by the sculptor’s front door, than 
even the Israelite had been; he leaned against the fence 
of the garden opposite the shop, and stood for some 
time gazing and shaking his head at the strange things 
that were to be seen within. 

A wooden counter supported by the wall of the 
house — which was used by customers to lay their money 
on and which generally held a few oil-jars — projected a 
little way into the street like a window-board, and on 
this singular couch sat a distinguished looking youth in 
a light blue, sleeveless chiton, turning his back on the 
stall itself, which was not much bigger than a good- 


THE SISTERS. 


3 2 3 


sized travelling-chariot. By his side lay a Himation* 
of fine white woolen stuff with a blue border. His legs 
hung out into the street, and his brilliant color stood 
out in wonderful contrast to the dark skin of a naked 
Egyptian boy, who crouched at his feet with a cage full 
of doves. 

The young Greek sitting on the window-counter 
had a golden fillet on his oiled and perfumed curls, san- 
dals of the finest leather on his feet, and even in these 
humble surroundings looked elegant — but even more 
merry than elegant — for ihe whole of his handsome face 
was radiant with smiles while he tied two small rosy- 
grey turtle doves with ribands of rose-colored bombyx- 
silk to the graceful basket in which they were sitting, 
and then slipped a costly gold bracelet over the heads 
of the frightened birds, and attached it to their wings 
with a white silk tie. 

When he had finished this work he held the basket 
up, looked at it with a smile of satisfaction, and he was 
in the very act of handing it to the black boy when he 
caught sight of Publius, who went up to him from the 
garden-fence. 

“ In the name of all the gods, Lysias,” cried the 
Roman, without greeting his friend, “what fool’s trick 
are you at there again! Are you turned oil-seller, or 
have you taken to training pigeons?” 

“ I am the one, and I am doing the other,” answered 
the Corinthian with a laugh, for he it was to whom the 
Roman’s speech was addressed. “How do you like 
my nest of young doves? It strikes me as uncom- 
monly pretty, and how well the golden circlet that links 
their necks becomes the little creatures!” 

* A long square cloak, and an indispensable part of the dress of the Greeks. 


3 2 4 


THE SISTERS. 


“Here, put out your claws, you black crocodile,” 
he continued, turning to his little assistant, “carry the 
basket carefully into the house, and repeat what I say, 
‘From the love-sick Lysias to the fair Irene’ — Only 
look, Publius, how the little monster grins at me with 
his white teeth. You shall hear that his Greek is far 
’ess faultless than his teeth. Prick up your ears, you 
little ichneumon — now once more repeat what you are 
to say in there — do you see — where I am pointing with 
my finger? — to the master or to the lady who shall take 
the doves from you.” 

With much pitiful stammering the boy repeated the 
Corinthian’s message to Irene, and as he stood there 
with his mouth wide open, Lysias, who was an expert 
at “ducks and drakes” on the water, neatly tossed into 
it a silver drachma. This mouthful was much to the 
little rascal’s taste, for after he had taken the coin out 
of his mouth he stood with wide-open jaws opposite his 
liberal master, waiting for another throw; Lysias how- 
ever boxed him lightly on his ears, and chucked him 
under the chin, saying as he snapped the boy’s teeth 
together: 

“Now carry up the birds and wait for the answer.” 

“This offering is to Irene, then?” said Publius. 
“We have not met for a long time; where were you all 
day yesterday ? ” 

“It will be far more entertaining to hear what you 
were about all the night long. You are dressed as if 
you had come straight here from Rome. Euergetes has 
already sent for you once this morning, and the queen 
twice; she is over head and ears in love with you.” 

“Folly! Tell me now what you were doing all yes- 
terday.” 


THE SISTERS. 


325 


“Tell me first where you have been.” 

“ I had to go some distance and will tell you all 
about it later, but not now; and I encountered strange 
things on my way — aye, I must say extraordinary things. 
Before sunrise I found a bed in the inn yonder, and to 
my own great surprise I slept so soundly that I awoke 
only two hours since.” 

“That is a very meagre report; but I know of old 
that if you do not choose to speak no god could drag 
a syllable from you. As regards myself I should do 
myself an injury by being silent, for my heart is like an 
overloaded beast of burden and talking will relieve it. 
Ah! Publius, my fate to-day is that of the helpless Tan- 
talus, who sees juicy pears bobbing about under his nose 
and tempting his hungry stomach, and yet they never 
let him catch hold of them, only look — in there dwells 
Irene, the pear, the peach, the pomegranate, and my 
thirsting heart is consumed with longing for her. You 
may laugh — but to-day Paris might meet Helen with 
impunity, for Eros has shot his whole store of arrows 
into me. You cannot see them, but I can feel 
them, for not one of them has he drawn out of the 
wound. And the darling little thing herself is not 
wholly untouched by the winged boy’s darts. She has 
confessed so much to me myself. It is impossible 
for me to refuse her any thing, and so I was fool enough 
to swear a horrible oath that I would not try to see 
her till she was reunited to her tall solemn sister, of 
whom I am exceedingly afraid. Yesterday I lurked 
outside this house just as a hungry wolf in cold 
weather sneaks about a temple where lambs are being 
sacrificed, only to see her, or at least to hear a word 
from her lips, for when she speaks it is like the song of 


326 THE SISTERS. 

nightingales — but all in vain. Early this morning I 
came back to the city and to this spot; and as hanging 
about forever was of no use, I bought up the stock of 
the old oil-seller, who is asleep there in the corner, and 
settled myself in his stall, for here no one can escape me, 
who enters or quits Apollodorus’ house — and, besides, 
I am only forbidden to visit Irene; she herself allows 
me to send her greetings, and no one forbids me, not 
even Apollodorus, to whom I spoke an hour ago.” 

“And that basket of birds that your, dusky errand- 
boy carried into the house just now, was such a ‘ greet- 
ing?’” 

“ Of course — that is the third already. First I sent 
her a lovely nosegay of fresh pomegranate-blossoms, and 
with it a few verses I hammered out in the course of 
the night; then a basket of peaches which she likes 
very much, and now the doves. And there lie her an- 
swers — the dear, sweet creature! For my nosegay I 
got this red riband, for the fruit this peach with a piece 
bitten out. Now I am anxious to see what I shall get 
for my doves. I bought that little brown scamp in the 
market, and I shall take him with me to Corinth as a 
remembrance of Memphis, if he brings me back some- 
thing pretty this time. There, I hear the door, that is 
he; come here youngster, what have you brought?” 

Publius stood with his arms crossed behind his back, 
hearing and watching the excited speech and gestures 
of his friend who seemed to him, to-day more than ever, 
one of those careless darlings of the gods, whose auda- 
cious proceedings give us pleasure because they match 
with their appearance and manner, and we feel they 
can no more help their vagaries than a tree can help 
blossoming. As soon as Lysias spied a small packet in 


THE SISTERS. 


327 


the boy’s hand he did not take it from him but snatched 
up the child, who was by no means remarkably small, 
by the leather belt that fastened up his loin-cloth, tossed 
him up as if he were a plaything, and set him down on 
the table by his side, exclaiming: 

“ I will teach you to fly, my little hippopotamus ! 
Now, show me what you have got.” 

He hastily took the packet from the hand of the 
youngster, who looked quite disconcerted, weighed it in 
his hand and said, turning to Publius : 

“There is something tolerably heavy in this — what 
can it contain ?” 

“ I am quite inexperienced in such matters,” replied 
the Roman. 

“And I much experienced,” answered Lysias. “It 
might be, wait — it might be the clasp of her girdle in 
here. Feel, it is certainly something hard.” 

Publius carefully felt the packet that the Corinthian 
held out to him, with his fingers, and then said with a 
smile: 

“I can guess what you have there, and if I am 
right I shall be much pleased. Irene, I believe, has 
returned you the gold bracelet on a little wooden 
tablet.” 

“Nonsense!” answered Lysias. “The ornament 
was prettily wrought and of some value, and every girl 
is fond of ornaments.” 

“Your Corinthian friends are, at any rate. But look 
what the wrapper contains.” 

“Do you open it,” said the Corinthian. 

Publius first untied a thread, then unfolded a small 
piece of white linen, and came at last to an object 
wrapped in a bit of flimsy, cheap papyrus. When this 


328 


THE SISTERS. 


last envelope was removed, the bracelet was in fact dis- 
covered, and under it lay a small wax tablet. 

Lysias was by no means pleased with this discovery, 
and looked disconcerted and annoyed at the return of 
his gift; but he soon mastered his vexation, and said 
turning to his friend, who was not in the least mali- 
ciously triumphant, but who stood looking thoughtfully 
at the ground. 

“ Here is something on the little tablet — the sauce 
no doubt to the peppered dish she has set before me.” 

“ Still, eat it,” interrupted Publius. “ It may do you 
good for the future.” 

Lysias took the tablet in his hand, and after con- 
sidering it carefully on both sides he said : 

“It belongs to the sculptor, for there is his name. 
And there — why she has actually spiced the sauce or, 
if you like it better the bitter dose, with verses. They 
are written more clearly than beautifully, still they are 
of the learned sort.” 

“Well?” asked the Roman with curiosity, as Lysias 
read the lines to himself; the Greek did not look up 
from the writing but sighed softly, and rubbing the side 
of his finely-cut nose with his finger he replied : 

“Very pretty, indeed, for any one to whom they are 
not directly addressed. Would you like to hear the 
distich ?” 

“ Read it to me, I beg of you.” 

“Well then,” said the Corinthian, and sighing again 
he read aloud: 

. ‘ Sweet is the lot of the couple whom love has united ; 

But gold is a debt, and needs must at once be restored.' 

“ There, that is the dose. But doves are not human 


THE SISTERS. 


329 


creatures, and I know at once what my answer shall 
be. Give me the fibula, Publius, that clasps that cloak 
in which you look like one of your own messengers. I 
will write my answer on the wax.” 

The Roman handed to Lysias the golden circlet 
armed with a strong pin, and while he stood holding 
his cloak together with his hands, as he was anxious to 
avoid recognition by the passers-by that frequented this 
street, the Corinthian wrote as follows : 

“ When doves are courting the lover adorns himself only ; 

But when a youth loves, he fain would adorn his beloved.’* 

“Am I allowed to hear it?” asked Publius, and his 
friend at once read him the lines; then he gave the 
tablet to the boy, with the bracelet which he hastily 
wrapped up again, and desired him to take it back im- 
mediately to the fair Irene. But the Roman detained 
the lad, and laying his hand on the Greek’s shoulder, he 
asked him : “ And if the young girl accepts this gift, and 
after it many more besides — since you are rich enough 
to make her presents to her heart’s content — what then, 
Lysias ?” 

“What then?” repeated the other with more indeci- 
sion and embarrassment than was his wont. “Then I 
wait for Klea’s return home and — -Aye! you may laugh 
at me, but I have been thinking seriously of marrying 
this girl, and taking her with me to Corinth. I am my 
father’s only son, and for the last three years he has 
given me no peace. He is bent on my mother’s find- 
ing me a wife or on my choosing one for myself. And 
if I took him the pitch-black sister of this swarthy lout 
I believe he would be glad. I never was more madly 
in love with any girl than with this little Irene, as true 
22 


33 ° 


THE SISTERS. 


as I am your friend; but I know why you are looking 
at me with a frown like Zeus the Thunderer. You 
know of what consequence our family is in Corinth, and 
when I think of that, then to be sure — ” 

“ Then to be sure ? ” enquired the Roman in sharp, 
grave tone. 

“Then I reflect that a water-bearer — the daughter 
of an outlawed man, in our house — ” 

“ And do you consider mine as being any less il- 
lustrious in Rome than your own is in Corinth ? ” asked 
Publius sternly. 

“ On the contrary, Publius Cornelius Scipio Nasica. 
We are important by our wealth, you by your power 
and estates.” 

“So it is — and yet I am about to conduct Irene’s 
sister Klea as my lawful wife to my father’s house.” 

“You are going to do that!” cried Lysias spring- 
ing from his seat, and flinging himself on the Roman’s 
breast, though at this moment a party of Egyptians were 
passing by in the deserted street. “ Then all is well, 
then — oh ! what a weight is taken off my mind ! — then 
Irene shall be my wife as sure as I live ! Oh Eros and 
Aphrodite and Father Zeus and Apollo ! how happy 
I am ! I feel as if the biggest of the Pyramids yonder 
had fallen off my heart. Now, you rascal, run up and 
carry to the fair Irene, the betrothed of her faithful 
Lysias — mark what I say — carry her at once this tablet 
and bracelet. But you will not say it right ; I will 
write here above my distich : * F rom the faithful Lysias 
to the fair Irene his future wife.’ There — and now I 
think she will not send the thing back again, good girl 
that she is ! Listen, rascal, if she keeps it you may 
swallow cakes to-day out on the Grand Square till you 


THE SISTERS. 


331 


burst — and yet I have only just paid five gold pieces 
for you. Will she keep the bracelet, Publius — yes or 
no.” 

“ She will keep it.” 

A few minutes later the boy came hurrying back, 
and pulling the Greek vehemently by his dress, he 
cried : 

“ Come, come with me, into the house.” Lysias 
with a light and graceful leap sprang right over the little 
fellow’s head, tore open the door, and spread out his 
arms as he caught sight of Irene, who, though trembling 
like a hunted gazelle, flew down the narrow ladder-like 
stairs to meet him, and fell on his breast laughing and 
crying and breathless. 

In an instant their lips met, but after this first kiss 
she tore herself from his arms, rushed up the stairs again, 
and then, from the top step, shouted joyously: 

“ I could not help seeing you this once ! now fare- 
well till Klea comes, then we meet again,” and she van- 
ished into an upper room. 

Lysias turned to his friend like one intoxicated, he 
threw himself down on his bench, and said : 

“ Now the heavens may fall, nothing can trouble 
me ! Ye immortal gods, how fair the world is ! ” 

“ Strange boy ! ” exclaimed the Roman, interrupt- 
ing his friend’s rapture. “ You can not stay for ever in 
this dingy stall.” 

“ I will not stir from this spot till Klea comes. The 
boy there shall fetch me victuals as an old sparrow feeds 
his young; and if necessary I will lie here for a week, like 
the little sardines they preserve in oil at Alexandria.” 

“ I hope you will have only a few hours to wait ; 
but I must go, for I am planning a rare surprise for 


33 2 


THE SISTERS. 


King Euergetes on his birthday, and must go to the 
palace. The festival is already in full swing. Only 
listen how they are shouting and calling down by the 
harbor; I fancy I can hear the name of Euergetes.” 

“ Present my compliments to the fat monster ! May 
we meet again soon — brother-in-law ! ” 


CHAPTER XXV. 

King Euergetes was pacing restlessly up and 
down the lofty room which his brother had furnished 
with particular magnificence to be his reception-room. 
Hardly had the sun risen on the morning of his birth- 
day when he had betaken himself to the temple of Ptah 
with a numerous suite — before his brother Philometor 
could set out — in order to sacrifice there, to win the 
good graces of the high-priest of the sanctuary, and to 
question of the oracle of Apis. All had fallen out well, 
for the sacred bull had eaten out of his hand ; and yet he 
would have been more glad — though it should have dis- 
dained the cake he offered it, if only Eulaeus had brought 
him the news that the plot against the Roman’s life had 
been successful. 

Gift after gift, addresses of congratulation from every 
district of the country, priestly decrees drawn up in his 
honor and engraved on tablets of hard stone, lay on 
every table or leaned against the walls of the vast hall 
which the guests had just quitted. Only Hierax, the 
king’s friend, remained with him, supporting himself, 
while he waited for some sign from his sovereign, on a 
high throne made of gold and ivory and richly deco- 


THE SISTERS. 


333 


rated with gems, which had been sent to the king by the 
J ewish community of Alexandria. 

The great commander knew his master well, and 
knew too that it was not prudent to address him when 
he looked as he did now. But Euergetes himself was 
aware of the need for speech, and he began, without 
pausing in his walk or looking at his dignified friend: 

“Even the Philobasilistes have proved corrupt; my 
soldiers in the citadel are more numerous and are better 
men too than those that have remained faithful to 
Philometor, and there ought to be nothing more for me 
to do but to stir up a brief clatter of swords on shields, 
to spring upon the throne, and to have myself pro- 
claimed king ; but I will never go into the field with the 
strongest division of the enemy in my rear. My broth- 
er’s head is on my sister’s shoulders, and so long as I 
am not certain of her — ” 

A chamberlain rushed into the room as the king 
spoke, and interrupted him by shouting out: 

“ Queen Cleopatra.” 

A smile of triumph flashed across the features of the 
young giant ; he flung himself with an air of indiffer- 
ence on to a purple divan, and desired that a magnifi- 
cent lyre made of ivory, and presented to him by his 
sister, should be brought to him ; on it was carved with 
wonderful skill and delicacy a representation of the first 
marriage, that of Cadmus with Harmonia, at which all 
the gods had attended as guests. 

Euergetes grasped the chords with wonderful vigor 
and mastery, and began to play a wedding march, in 
which eager triumph alternated with tender whisperings 
of love and longing. 

The chamberlain, whose duty it was to introduce the 


334 


THE SISTERS. 


queen to her brother’s presence, wished to interrupt this 
performance of his sovereign’s; but Cleopatra held him 
back, and stood listening at the door with her children 
till Euergetes had brought the air to a rapid conclusion 
with a petulant sweep of the strings, and a loud and ear- 
piercing discord; then he flung his lute on the couch 
and rose with well-feigned surprise, going forward to 
meet the queen as if, absorbed in playing, he had not 
heard her approach. 

He greeted his sister affectionately, holding out 
both his hands to her, and spoke to the children — who 
were not afraid of him, for he knew how to play 
madcap games with them like a great frolicsome boy — 
welcoming them as tenderly as if he were their own 
father. 

He could not weary of thanking Cleopatra for her 
thoughtful present — so appropriate to him, who like 
Cadmus longed to boast of having mastered Harmonia, 
and finally — she not having found a word to say — he 
took her by the hand to exhibit to her the presents sent 
him by her husband and from the provinces. But Cleo- 
patra seemed to take little pleasure in all these things, 
and said: 

“Yes, everything is admirable, just as it has always 
been every year for the last twenty years ; but I did not 
come here to see but to listen.” 

Her brother was radiant with satisfaction; she on 
the contrary was pale and grave, and could only now 
and then compel herself to a forced smile. 

“ I fancied,” said Euergetes, “ that your desire to 
wish me joy was the principal thing that had brought 
you here, and, indeed, my vanity requires me to believe 
it. Philometor was with me quite early, and fulfilled 


THE SISTERS. ' 335 

that duty with touching affection. When will he go into 
the banqueting-hall ? ” 

“ In half an hour; and till then tell me, I entreat you, 
what yesterday you — ” 

“The best events are those that are long in prepar- 
ing,” interrupted her brother. “ May I ask you to let 
the children, with their attendants, retire for a few min- 
utes into the inner rooms ? ” 

“At once! ’’cried Cleopatra eagerly, and.she pushed 
her eldest boy, who clamorously insisted on remaining 
with his uncle, violently out of the door without giving 
his attendant time to quiet him or take him in her 
arms. 

While she was endeavoring, with angry scolding and 
cross words, to hasten the children’s departure, Eulaeus 
came into the room. Euergetes, as soon as he saw him, 
set every limb with rigid resolve, and drew breath so 
deeply that his broad chest heaved high, and a strong 
respiration parted his lips as he went forward to meet 
the eunuch, slowly but with an enquiring look. 

Eulaeus cast a significant glance at Hierax and Cleo- 
patra, went quite close up to the king, whispered a few 
words into his ear, and answered his brief questions in 
a low voice. 

“It is well,” said Euergetes at last, and with a de- 
cisive gesture of his hand he dismissed Eulaeus and his 
friend from the room. 

Then he stood, as pale as death, his teeth set in his 
under-lip, and gazing blankly at the ground. 

He had his will; Publius Cornelius Scipio lived no 
more; his ambition might reach without hindrance the 
utmost limits of his desires, and yet he could not rejoice; 
he could not escape from a deep horror of himself, 


33 ® 


THE SISTERS. 


and he struck his broad forehead with his clenched 
fists. He was face to face with his first dastardly mur- 
der. 

“And what news does Eulaeus bring?” asked Cleo- 
patra in anxious excitement, for she had never before 
seen her brother like this; but he did not hear these 
words, and it was not till she had repeated them with 
more insistence that he collected himself, stared at her 
from head to foot with a fixed, gloomy expression, and 
then, letting his hand fall on her shoulder so heavily that 
her knees bent under her and she gave a little cry, asked 
her in a low but meaning tone : 

“Are you strong enough to bear to hear great 
news ? ” 

“ Speak,” she said in a low voice, and her eyes were 
fixed on his lips while she pressed her hand on her 
heart. Her anxiety to hear fettered her to him, as with 
a tangible tie, and he, as if he must burst it by the force 
of his utterance, said with awful solemnity, in his deep- 
est tones and emphasizing every syllable: 

“ Publius Cornelius Scipio Nasica is dead.” 

At these words Cleopatra’s pale cheeks ivere sud- 
denly dyed with a crimson glow, and clenching her 
little hands she struck them together, and exclaimed 
with flashing eyes: 

“I hoped so!” 

Euergetes withdrew a step from his sister, and said: 

“You were right. It is not only among the race of 
gods that the most fearful of all are women!” 

“ What have you to say ? ” retorted Cleopatra. “ And 
am I to believe that a toothache has kept the Roman 
away from the banquet yesterday, and again from com- 
ing to see me to-day? Am I to repeat, after you, that 


THE SISTERS. 


337 


he died of it? Now, speak out, for it rejoices my heart 
to hear it ; where and how did the insolent hypocrite 
meet his end ? ” 

“A serpent stung him,” replied Euergetes, turning 
from his sister. “It was in the desert, not far from the 
Apis-tombs.” 

“He had an assignation in the Necropolis at mid- 
night — it would seem to have begun more pleasantly 
than it ended?” 

Euergetes nodded assent to the question, and added 
gravely : 

“ His fate overtook him — but I cannot see anything 
very pleasing in the matter.” 

“No?” asked the queen. “And do you think that 
I do not know the asp that ended that life in its prime ? 
Do you think that I do not know, who set the poisoned 
serpent on the Roman ? You are the assassin, and Eu- 
laeus and his accomplices have helped you ! Only yester- 
day I would have given my heart’s blood for Publius, and 
would rather have carried you to the grave than him; 
but to-day, now that I know the game that the wretch 
has been playing with me, I would even have taken on 
myself the bloody deed which, as it is, stains your 
hands. Not even a god should treat your sister with 
such contempt — should insult her as he has done — and 
go unpunished! Another has already met the same 
fate, as you know — Eustorgos, Hipparchon of Bithynia, 
who, while he seemed to be dying of love for me, was 
courting Kallistrata my lady in waiting; and the wild 
beasts and serpents exercised their dark arts on him too. 
Eulaeus’ intelligence has fallen on you, who are power- 
ful, like a cold hand on your heart; in me, the weak 
woman, it rouses unspeakable delight. I gave him the 


33 « 


THE SISTERS. 


best of all a woman has to bestow, and he dared to 
trample it in the dust; and had I no right to require of 
him that he should pour out the best that he had, which 
was his life, in the same way as he had dared to serve 
mine, which is my love ? I have a right to rejoice at 
his death. Aye! the heavy lids now close those bright 
eyes which could be falser than the stern lips that were 
so apt to praise truth. The faithless heart is forever still 
which could scorn the love of a queen — and for what? 
For whom? Oh, ye pitiful gods!” 

With these words the queen sobbed aloud, hastily 
lifting her hands to cover her eyes, and ran to the door 
by which she had entered her brother’s rooms. 

But Euergetes stood in her way, and said sternly and 
positively : 

“You are to stay here till I return. Collect yourself, 
for at the next event which this momentous day will 
bring forth it will be my turn to laugh while your blood 
shall run cold.” And with a few swift steps he left the 
hall. 

Cleopatra buried her face in the soft cushions of the 
couch, and wept without ceasing, till she was presently 
startled by loud cries and the clatter of arms. Her 
quick wit told her what was happening. In frantic 
haste she flew to the door but it was locked; no shak- 
ing, no screaming, no thumping seemed to reach the 
ears of the guard whom she heard monotonously walk- 
ing up and down outside her prison. 

And now the tumult and clang of arms grew louder 
and louder, and the rattle of drums and blare of trum- 
pets began to mingle with the sound. She rushed to 
the window in mortal fear, and looked down into the 
palace-yard; at that same instant the door of the great 


THE SISTERS. 


339 


banqueting-hall was flung open, and a flying crowd 
streamed out in distracted confusion — then another, and 
a third — all troops in King Philometor’s uniform. She 
ran to the door of the room into which she had thrust 
her children; that too was locked. In her desperation 
she once more sprang to the window, shouted to the 
flying Macedonians to halt and make a stand — threat- 
ening and entreating; but no one heard her, and their 
number constantly increased, till at length she saw her 
husband standing on the threshold of the great hall with 
a gaping wound on his forehead, and defending himself 
bravely and stoutly with buckler and sword against the 
body-guard of his own brother, who were pressing him 
sorely. In agonized excitement she shouted encourag- 
ing words to him, and he seemed to hear her, for with 
a strong sweep of his shield he struck his nearest antag- 
onist to the earth, sprang with a mighty leap into the 
midst of his flying adherents, and vanished with them 
through the passage which led to the palace-stables. 

The queen sank fainting on her knees by the win- 
dow, and, through the gathering shades of her swoon 
her dulled senses still were conscious of the trampling 
of horses, of a shrill trumpet-blast, and at last of a swell- 
ing and echoing shout of triumph with cries of, “ Hail; 
hail to the son of the Sun — Hail to the uniter of the .two 
kingdoms ; Hail to the King of Upper and Lower Egypt, 
to Euergetes the god.” 

But at the last words she recovered consciousness 
entirely and started up. She looked down into the 
court again, and there saw her brother borne along on 
her husband’s throne-litter by dignitaries and nobles. 
Side by side with the traitor’s body-guard marched her 
own and Philometor’s Philobasilistes and Diadoches. 


.340 


THE SISTERS. 


The magnificent train went out of the great court 
of the palace, and then — as she heard the chanting of 
priests — she realized that she had lost her crown, and 
knew whither her faithless brother was proceeding. 

She ground her teeth as her fancy painted all that 
was now about to happen. Euergetes was being borne 
to the temple of Ptah, and proclaimed by its astonished 
chief-priests, as King of Upper and Lower Egypt, and 
successor to Philometor. Four pigeons would be let 
fly in his presence to announce to the four quarters of 
the heavens that a new sovereign had mounted the 
throne of his fathers, and amid prayer and sacrifice a 
golden sickle would be presented to him with which, 
according to ancient custom, he would cut an ear of 
com. 

Betrayed by her brother, abandoned by her husband, 
parted from her children, scorned by the man she had 
loved, dethroned and powerless, too weak and too ut- 
terly crushed to dream of revenge — she spent two inter- 
minably long hours in the keenest anguish of mind, shut 
up in her prison which was overloaded with splendor 
and with gifts. If poison had heen within her reach, 
in that hour she would unhesitatingly have put an end 
to her ruined life. Now she walked restlessly up and 
down, asking herself what her fate would be, and now 
she flung herself on the couch and gave herself up to 
dull despair. 

There lay the lyre she had given to her brother; 
her eye fell on the relievo of the marriage of Cadmus 
and Harmonia, and on the figure of a woman who was 
offering a jewel to the bride. The bearer of the gift 
was the goddess of love, and the ornament she gave 
—so ran the legend — brought misfortune on those who 


THE SISTERS. 


341 


inherited it. All the darkest hours of her life revived 
in her memory, and the blackest of them all had come 
upon her as the outcome of Aphrodite’s gifts. She 
thought with a shudder of the murdered Roman, and 
remembered the moment when Eulaeus had told her 
that her Bithynian lover had been killed by wild beasts. 
She rushed from one door to another — the victim of 
the avenging Eumenides — shrieked from the window 
for rescue and help, and in that one hour lived through 
a whole year of agonies and terrors. 

At last — at last, the door of the room was opened, 
and Euergetes came towards her, clad in the purple, 
with the crown of the two countries on his grand head, 
radiant with triumph and delight. 

“All hail to you, sister!” he exclaimed in a cheerful 
tone, and lifting the heavy crown from his curling hair. 
“You ought to be proud to-day, for your own brother 
has risen to high estate, and is now King of Upper and 
Lower Egypt.” 

Cleopatra turned from him, but he followed her and 
tried to take her hand. She however snatched it away, 
exclaiming: 

“ Fill up the measure of your deeds, and insult the 
woman whom you have robbed and made a widow. It 
was with a prophecy on your lips that you went forth 
just now to perpetrate your greatest crime; but it falls 
on your own head, for you laugh over our misfortune — 
and it cannot regard me, for my blood does not run 
cold ; I am not overwhelmed nor hopeless, and I shall — ” 

“You,” interrupted Euergetes, at first with a loud 
voice, which presently became as gentle as though he 
were revealing to her the prospect of a future replete 
with enjoyment, “You shall retire to your roof- tent with 


342 


THE SISTERS. 


your children, and there you shall be read to as much 
as you like, eat as many dainties as you can, wear as 
many splendid dresses as you can desire, receive my 
visits and gossip with me as often as my society may 
seem agreeable to you — as yours is to me now and at 
all times. Besides all this you may display your spark- 
ling wit before as many Greek and Jewish men of letters 
or learning as you can command, till each and all are 
dazzled to blindness. Perhaps even before that you 
may win back your freedom, and with it a full treasury, 
a stable full of noble horses, and a magnificent residence 
in the royal palace on the Bruchion in gay Alexandria. 
It depends only on how soon our brother Philometor — 
who fought like a lion this morning — perceives that he 
is more fit to be a commander of horse, a lute-player, 
an attentive host of word-splitting guests — than the 
ruler of a kingdom. Now, is it not worthy of note to 
those who, like you and me, sister, love to investigate 
the phenomena of our spiritual life, that this man — who 
in peace is as yielding as w r ax, as week as a reed — is as 
tough and as keen in battle as a finely tempered sword? 
We hacked bravely at each other’s shields, and I owe 
this slash here on my shoulder to him. If Hierax — 
who is in pursuit of him with his horsemen — is lucky 
and catches him in time, he will no doubt give up the 
crown of his own free will.” 

“Then he is not yet in your power, and he had time 
to mount a horse!” cried Cleopatra, her eyes sparkling 
with satisfaction; “then all is not yet lost for us. If 
Philometor can but reach Rome, and lay our case be- 
fore the Senate — ” 

“ Then he might certainly have some prospect of 
help from the Republic, for Rome does not love to see 


THE SISTERS. 


343 


a strong king on the throne of Egypt,” said Euergetes. 
“ But you have lost your mainstay by the Tiber, and I 
am about to make all the Scipios and the whole gens 
Cornelia my stanch allies, for I mean to have the de- 
ceased Roman burnt with the finest cedar-wood and 
Arabian spices; sacrifices shall be slaughtered at the 
same time as if he had been a reigning king, and his 
ashes shall be sent to Ostia and Rome in the costliest 
specimen of Vasa murrina* that graces my treasure- 
house, and on a ship specially fitted, and escorted by 
the noblest of my friends. The road to the rampart of 
a hostile city lies over corpses, and I, as general and 
king—” 

Euergetes suddenly broke off in his sentence, for a 
loud noise and vehement talking were heard outside 
the door. Cleopatra too had not failed to observe it, 
and listened with alert attention; for on such a day and 
in these apartments every dialogue, every noise in the 
king’s antechamber might be of grave purport. 

Euergetes did not deceive himself in this matter any 
more than his sister, and he went towards the door hold- 
ing the sacrificial sickle, which formed part of his rega- 
lia, in his right hand. But he had not crossed the room 
when Eulaeus rushed in, as pale as death, and calling 
out to his sovereign : 

“The murderers have betrayed us; Publius Scipio 
is alive, and insists on being admitted to speak with 
you.” 

The king’s armed hand fell by his side, and for a 
moment he gazed blankly into vacancy, but the next 

* The material of which these highly esteemed vases were made is not cer- 
tainly known. It was possibly a line kind of glass . — Life oj the Greeks and 
Romans. Guhl and Koner. 


344 


THE SISTERS. 


instant he had recovered himself, and roared in a voice 
which filled the room like rolling thunder: 

“Who dares to hinder the entrance of my friend 
Publius Cornelius Scipio? And are you still here, Eu- 
laeus — you scoundrel and you villain! The first case 
that I, as King of Upper and Lower Egypt, shall open 
for trial will be that which this man — who is your foe 
and my friend — proposes to bring against you. Wel- 
come! most welcome on my birthday, my noble 
friend ! ” 

The last words were addressed to Publius, who now 
entered the room with stately dignity, and clad in the 
ample folds ot the white toga worn by Romans of high 
birth. He held a sealed roll or despatch in his right 
hand, and, while he bowed respectfully to Cleopatra, he 
seemed entirely to overlook the hands King Euergetes 
held out in welcome. After his first greeting had been 
disdained by the Roman, Euergetes would not have 
offered him a second if his life had depended on it. 
He crossed his arms with royal dignity, and said: 

“ I am grieved to receive your good wishes the last 
of all that have been offered me on this happy day.” 

“Then you must have changed your mind,” replied 
Publius, drawing up his slight figure, which was taller 
than the king’s, “You have no lack of docile instru- 
ments, and last night you were fully determined to re- 
ceive my first congratulations in the realm of shades.” 

“My sister,” answered Euergetes, shrugging his 
shoulders, “was only yesterday singing the praises of 
your uncultured plainness of speech; but to-day it is 
your pleasure to speak in riddles like an Egyptian 
oracle.” 

“They cannot, however, be difficult to solve by you 


THE SISTERS. 


345 


and your minions,” replied Publius coldly, as he pointed 
to Eulseus. “The serpents which you command have 
powerful poisons and sharp fangs at their disposal; this 
time, however, they mistook their victim, and have sent 
a poor recluse of Serapis to Hades instead of one of 
their king’s guests.” 

“Your enigma is harder than ever,” cried the king. 
“ My intelligence at least is unequal to solve it, and I 
must request you to speak in less dark language or else 
to explain your meaning.” 

“ Later, I will,” said Publius emphatically, “but these 
things concern myself alone, and I stand here now com- 
missioned by the State of Rome which I serve. To-day 
Juventius Thalna will arrive here as ambassador from 
the Republic, and this document from the Senate ac- 
credits me as its representative until his arrival.” 

Euergetes took the sealed roll which Publius offered 
to him. While he tore it open, and hastily looked 
through its contents, the door was again thrown open 
and Hierax, the king’s trusted friend, appeared on the 
threshold with a flushed face and hair in disorder. 

“We have him! ” he cried before he came in. “He 
fell from his horse near Heliopolis.” 

“ Philometor ? ” screamed Cleopatra, flinging herself 
upon Hierax. “He fell from his horse — you have 
murdered him ? ” 

The tone in which the words were said was so full 
of grief and horror that the general said compassion- 
ately : 

“ Calm yourself, noble lady ; your husband’s wound 
in the forehead is not dangerous. The physicians in the 
great hall of the temple of the Sun bound it up, and al- 
lowed me to bring him hither on a litter.” 


34 ^ 


THE SISTERS. 


Without hearing Hierax to the end Cleopatra flew 
towards the door, but Euergetes barred her way and 
gave his orders with that decision which characterized 
him, and which forbade all contradiction: 

“You will remain here till I myself conduct you to 
him. I wish to have you both near me.” 

“ So that you may force us by every torment to re- 
sign the throne!” cried Cleopatra. “You are in luck 
to-day, and we are your prisoners.” 

“You are free, noble queen,” said the Roman to the 
poor woman, who was trembling in every limb. “ And 
on the strength of my plenipotentiary powers I here de- 
mand the liberty of King Philometor, in the name of 
the Senate of Rome.” 

At these words the blood mounted to King Euer- 
getes’ face and eyes, and, hardly master of himself, he 
stammered out rather than said : 

“Popilius Laenas drew a circle round my uncle 
Antiochus, and threatened him with the enmity of Rome 
if he dared to overstep it. You might excel the exam- 
ple set you by your bold countryman — whose family 
indeed was far less illustrious than yours — but I— T — ” 

“You are at liberty to oppose the will of Rome,” 
interrupted Publius with dry formality, “but, if you ven- 
ture on it, Rome, by me, will withdraw her friendship. 
I stand here in the name of the Senate, whose purpose 
it is to uphold the treaty which snatched this country 
from the Syrians, and by which you and your brother 
pledged yourselves to divide the realm of Egypt between 
you. It is not in my power to alter what has happened 
here; but it is incumbent on me so to act as to enable 
Rome to distribute to each of you that which is your 
due, according to the treaty ratified by thq Republic. 


347 


THE SISTERS. 

In all questions which bear upon that compact Rome 
alone must decide, and it is my duty to take care that 
the plaintiff is not prevented from appearing alive and 
free before his protectors. So, in the name of the Sen- 
ate, King Euergetes, I require you to permit King Philo- 
metor your brother, and Queen Cleopatra your sister, 
to proceed hence, whithersoever they will.” Euergetes, 
breathing hard in impotent fury, alternately doubling 
his fists, and extending his quivering fingers, stood op- 
posite the Roman who looked enquiringly in his face 
with cool composure; fora short space both were silent. 
Then Euergetes, pushing his hands through his hair, 
shook his head violently from side to side, and ex- 
claimed : 

‘‘Thank the Senate from me, and say that I know 
what we owe to it, and admire the wisdom which pre- 
fers to see Egypt divided rather than united in one 
strong hand — Philometor is free, and you also Cleo- 
patra.” 

For a moment he was again silent, then he laughed 
loudly, and cried to the queen : 

“ As for you sister — your tender heart will of course 
bear you on the wings of love to the side of your 
wounded husband.” 

Cleopatra’s pale cheeks had flushed scarlet at the 
Roman’s speech; she vouchsafed no answer to her 
brother’s ironical address, but advanced proudly to the 
door. As she passed Publius she said with a farewell 
wave of her pretty hand. 

“We are much indebted to the Senate.” 

Publius bowed low, and she, turning away from him, 
quitted the room. 

“You have forgotten your fan, and your children ! n 


348 


THE SISTERS. 


the king called after her; but Cleopatra did not hear 
his words, for, once outside her brother’s apartment, all 
her forced and assumed composure flew to the winds ; 
she clasped her hands on her temples, and rushed down 
the broad stairs of the palace as if she were pursued by 
fiends. 

When the sound of her steps had died away, Euer- 
getes turned to the Roman and said: 

“Now, as you have fulfilled what you deem to be 
your duty, I beg of you to explain the meaning of your 
dark speeches just now, for they were addresed to Euer- 
getes the man, and not the king. If I understood you 
rightly you meant to imply that your life had been at- 
tempted, and that one of those extraordinary old men 
devoted to Serapis had been murdered instead of you.” 

“By your orders and those of your accomplice 
Eulaeus,” answered Publius coolly. 

“ Eulaeus, come here ! ” thundered the king to the 
trembling courtier, with a fearful and threatening glare 
in his eyes. “ Have you hired murderers to kill my 
friend — this noble guest of our royal house — because he 
threatened to bring your crimes to light ? ” 

“Mercy!” whimpered Eulaeus sinking on his knees 
before the king. 

“ He confesses his crime ! ” cried Euergetes ; he laid 
his hand on the girdle of his weeping subordinate, 
and commanded Hierax to hand him over without de- 
lay to the watch, and to have him hanged before all be- 
holders by the great gate of the citadel. Eulaeus tried 
to pray for mercy and to speak, but the powerful officer, 
who hated the contemptible wretch, dragged him up, 
and out of the room. 

“ You were quite right to lay your complaint before 


THE SISTERS. 


349 


me,” said Euergetes while Eulaeus’ cries and howls were 
still audible on the stairs. “And you see that I know 
how to punish those who dare to offend a guest.” 

“He has only met with the portion he has de- 
served for years,” replied Publius. “ But now that we 
stand face to face, man to man, I must close my ac- 
count with you too. In your service and by your 
orders Eulaeus set two assassins to lie in wait for me — ” 

“ Publius Cornelius Scipio ! ” cried the king, inter- 
rupting his enemy in an ominous tone ; but the Roman 
went on, calmly and quietly : 

“ I am saying nothing that I cannot support by 
witnesses ; and I have truly set forth, in two letters, that 
king Euergetes during the past night has attempted the 
life of an ambassador from Rome. One of these de- 
spatches is addressed to my father, the other to Popilius 
Laenas, and both are already on their way to Rome. I 
have given instructions that they are to be opened if, in 
the course of three months reckoned from the present 
date, I have not demanded them back. You see you 
must needs make it convenient to protect my life, and 
to carry out whatever I may require of you. If you 
obey my will in everything I may demand, all that has 
happened this night shall remain a secret between you 
and me and a third person, for whose silence I will be 
answerable ; this I promise you, and I never broke my 
■word.” 

“Speak,” said the king flinging himself on the couch, 
and plucking the feathers from the fan Cleopatra had 
forgotten, while Publius went on speaking. 

“First I demand a free pardon for Philotas of Syra- 
cuse, ‘relative of the king,’ and president of the body of 
the Chrematistes, his immediate release, with his wife, 


/ 


THE SISTERS. 


35 ° 

from their forced labor, and their return from the 
mines.” 

“They both are dead,” said Euergetes, “ my brother 
can vouch for it.” 

“ Then I require you to have it declared by special 
decree that Philotas was condemned unjustly, and that 
he is reinstated in all the dignities he was deprived of. 
I farther demand that you permit me and my friend 
Lysias of Corinth, as well as Apollodorus the sculptor, 
to quit Egypt without let or hindrance, and with us 
Klea and Irene, the daughters of Philotas, who serve as 
water-bearers in the temple of Serapis. — Do you hesi- 
tate as to your reply ? ” 

“ No,” answered the king, and he tossed up his 
hand. “ For this once I have lost the game.” 

“ The daughters of Philotas, Klea and Irene,” con- 
tinued Publius with imperturbable coolness, “ are to have 
the confiscated estates of their parents restored to them.” 

“Then your sweetheart’s beauty does not satisfy 
you T ” interposed Euergetes satirically. 

“ It amply satisfies me. My last demand is that half 
of this wealth shall be assigned to the temple of Serapis, 
so that the god may give up his serving-maidens will- 
ingly, and without raising any objections. The other 
half shall be handed over to Dicearchus, my agent in 
Alexandria, because it is my will that Klea and Irene 
shall not enter my own house or that of Lysias in Cor- 
inth as wives, without the dowry that beseems their 
rank. Now, within one hour, I must have both the 
decree and the act of restitution in my hands, for as soon 
as Juventius Thalna arrives here — and I expect him, as 
I told you this very day — we propose to leave Mem- 
phis, and to take ship at Alexandria.” 


THE SISTERS. 35 1 

“ A strange conjuncture ! ” cried Euergetes. “ You 
deprive me alike of my revenge and my love, and yet 
I see myself compelled to wish you a pleasant journey. 
I must offer a sacrifice to Poseidon, to the Cyprian god- 
dess, and to the Dioscurides that they may vouchsafe 
your ship a favorable voyage, although it will carry the 
man who, in the future, can do us more injury at Rome 
by his bitter hostility, than any other.” 

“ I shall always take the part of which ever of you 
has justice on his side.” 

Publius quitted the room with a proud wave of his 
hand, and Euergetes, as soon as the door had closed 
behind the Roman, sprang from his couch, shook his 
clenched fist in angry threat, and cried : 

“You, you obstinate fellow and your haughty pa- 
trician clan may do me mischief enough by the Tiber; 
and yet perhaps I may win the game in spite of you ! 

“ You cross my path in the name of the Roman 
Senate. If Philometor waits in the antechambers of 
consuls and senators we certainly may chance to meet 
there, but I shall also try my luck with the people and 
the tribunes. 

“ It is very strange ! This head of mine hits upon 
more good ideas in an hour than a cool fellow like that 
has in a year, and yet I aril beaten by him — and if I 
am honest I can not but confess that it was not his 
luck alone, but his shrewdness that gained the victory. 
He may be off as soon as he likes with his proud Hera 
— I can find a dozen Aphrodites in Alexandria in her 
place ! 

“ I resemble Hellas and he Rome, such as they are 
at present. We flutter in the sunshine, and seize on all 
that satisfies our intellect or gratifies our senses ; they 


352 


THE SISTERS. 


gaze at the earth, but walk on with a firm step to seek 
power and profit. And thus they get ahead of us, and 
yet — I would not change with them.” 


THE END. 


GEORG EBERS 


JOSHUA 


.M v 








•• 









THE HISTORICAL ROMANCES OF 
GEORG EBERS 


JOSHUA 

A STORY OF BIBLICAL TIMES 


Translated from the German by 
Mary J. Safford 


POPULAR UNIFORM EDITION 


D* APPLETON AND COMPANY 
New York and London 
J9I5 







• IC 


Copyright, 1S89, 

By WILLIAM S. GOTTSBERGER. 


A ulhorized Edition. 




gtlritaltfcr 

TO THE MANES 

OF 


GUSTAV BAUR 






PREFACE. 


Last winter I resolved to complete this book, and 
while giving it the form in which it now goes forth into 
the world, I was constantly reminded of the dear friend 
to whom I intended to dedicate it. Now I am per- 
mitted to offer it only to the manes of Gustav Baur ; 
for a few months ago death snatched him from us. 

Every one who was allowed to be on terms of 
intimacy with this man feels his departure from earth 
as an unspeakably heavy loss, not only because his 
sunny, cheerful nature and brilliant intellect brightened 
the souls of his ' friends ; not only because he poured 
generously from the overflowing cornucopia of his 
rich knowledge precious gifts to those with whom he 
stood in intellectual relations, but above all because of 
the loving heart which beamed through his clear eyes, 
and enabled him to share the joys and sorrows of 
others, and enter into their thoughts and feelings. 

To my life’s end I shall not forget that during the 
last few years, himself physically disabled and over- 
burdened by the duties imposed by the office of pro- 
fessor and counsellor of the Consistory, he so often 
found his way to me, a still greater invalid. The hours 
he then permitted me to spend in animated conversa- 
tion with him are among those which, according to old 
Horace, whom he knew so thoroughly and loved so 
well, must be numbered among the ‘ good ones I 
have done so, and whenever I gratefully recall them, 
in my ear rings my friend’s question : 

“ What of the stoiy of the Exodus ?” 

After I had told him that in the midst of the desert, 
while following the traces of the departing Hebrews, 


II 


PREFACE. 


the idea had occurred to me of treating their wander- 
ings in the form of a romance, he expressed his ap- 
proval in the eager, enthusiastic manner natural to 
him. When 1 finally entered farther into the details of 
the sketch outlined on the back of a camel, he never 
ceased to encourage me, though he thoroughly under- 
stood my scruples and fully appreciated the difficulties 
which attended the fulfilment of my task. 

So in a certain degree this book is his, and the in- 
ability to offer it to the living man and hear his acute 
judgment is one of the griefs which render- it hard to 
reconcile oneself to the advancing years which in other 
respects bring many a joy. 

Himself one of the most renowned, acute and 
learned students and interpreters of the Bible, he was 
perfectly familiar with the critical works the last five 
years have brought to light in the domain of Old 
Testament criticism. He had taken a firm stand 
against the views of the younger school, who seek to 
banish the Exodus of the Jews from the province 
of history and represent it as a later production of the 
myth-making popular mind ; a theory we both believed 
untenable. One of his remarks on this subject has 
lingered in my memory and ran nearly as follows : 

“ If the events recorded in the Second Book of 
Moses — which I believe are true — really never oc- 
curred, then nowhere and at no period has a his- 
torical event of equally momentous result taken place. 
For thousands of years the story of the Exodus has 
lived in the minds of numberless people as some- 
thing actual, and it still retains its vitality. Therefore 
it belongs to history no less certainly than the French 
Revolution and its consequences.” 

Notwithstanding such encouragement, for a long 
series of years I lacked courage to finish the story of 
the Exodus until last winter an unexpected appeal from 


PREFACE. 


Ill 


abroad induced me to resume it. After this I worked 
uninterruptedly with fresh zeal and I may say re- 
newed pleasure at the perilous yet fascinating task 
until its completion. 

The locality of the romance, the scenery as we say 
of the drama, I have copied as faithfully as possible 
from the landscapes I beheld in Goshen and on the 
Sinai peninsula, it will agree with the conception of 
many of the readers of “Joshua.” 

The case will be different with those portions of the 
story which 1 have interwoven upon the ground of 
ancient Egyptian records. They will surprise the lay- 
men ; for few have probably asked themselves how the 
events related in the Bible from the standpoint of the 
Jews affected the Egyptians, and what political con- 
ditions existed in the realm of Pharaoh when the 
Hebrews left it. I have endeavored to represent these 
relations with the utmost fidelity to the testimony of the 
monuments. For the description of the Hebrews, 
which is mentioned in the Scriptures, the Bible itself 
offers the best authority. The character of the 
“ Pharaoh of the Exodus ” I also copied from the 
Biblical narrative, and the portraits of the weak King 
Menephtah, which have been preserved, harmonize ad- 
mirably with it. What we have learned of later times 
induced me to weave into the romance the conspiracy 
of Siptah, the accession to the throne of Seti II, and 
the person of the Syrian Aarsu who, according to the 
London Papyrus Harris I., after Siptah had become 
king, seized the government. 

The Naville excavations have fixed the location of 
Pithom-Succoth beyond question, and have also brought 
to light the fortified store-house of Pithom (Succoth) 
mentioned in the Bible; and as the scripture says 
the Hebrews rested in this place and thence moved 
farther on, it must be supposed that they overpowered 
24 


IV 


PREFACE. 


the garrison of the strong building and seized the con- 
tents of the spacious granaries, which are in existence 
at the present day. 

In my “Egypt and the Books of Moses”* which 
appeared in 1868, I stated that the Biblical Etham was 
the same as the Egyptian Chetam, that is, the line of 
fortresses which protected the isthmus of Suez from the 
attacks of the nations of the East, and my statement 
has long since found universal acceptance. Through it, 
the turning back of the Hebrews before Etham is in- 
telligible. 

The mount where the laws were given I believe 
was the majestic Serb&l, not the Sinai of the monks; 
the reasons for which I explained fully in my work 
“Through Goshen to Sinai.”** I have also — in the 
same volume — attempted to show that the halting- 
place of the tribes called in the Bible “ Dophkah ” was 
the deserted mines of the modern Wadi Maghara. 

By the aid of the mental and external experiences 
of the characters, whose acts have in part been freely 
guided by the author’s imagination, he has endeavored 
to bring nearer to the sympathizing reader the human 
side of the mighty destiny of the nation which it was 
incumbent on him to describe. If he has succeeded in 
doing so, without belittling the magnificent Biblical 
narrative, he has accomplished his desire; if he has 
failed, he must content himself with the remembrance 
of the pleasure and mental exaltation he experienced 
during the creation of this work. 


Tutzing on the Stamberger See, 
September 20th, 1889. 


Georg Ebers. 


* Aegypten und die Bucher Mose's. Leipzig, W. Engelmann. 

** Durch Gosen zum Sinai. Leipzig. W. Engelmann. Zweite 
verbesserte Auflage, 188a. 


JOSHUA, 


CHAPTER I. 

“ Go down, grandfather : I will watch.” 

But the old man to whom the entreaty was ad- 
dressed shook his shaven head. 

“ Yet you can get no rest here. ...” 

“ And the stars ? And the tumult below ? Who 
can think of rest in hours like these ? Throw my cloak 
around me ! Rest — on such a night of horror !” 

“ You are shivering. And how your hand and the 
instrument are shaking.” 

“ Then support my arm.” 

The youth dutifully obeyed the request ; but in a 
short time he exclaimed : “ Vain, all is vain ; star after 
star is shrouded by the murky clouds. Alas, hear the 
wailing from the city. Ah, it rises from our own house 
too. I am so anxious, grandfather, feel how my head 
bums ! Come down, perhaps they need help.” 

“Their fate is in the hands of the gods — my place 
is here. 

“ But there — there ! Look northward across the 
lake. No, farther to the west. They are coming from 
the city of the dead.” 

“ Oh, grandfather ! Father — there!” cried the youth, 


2 


JOSHUA. 


a grandson of the astrologer of Amon-Ra, to whom he 
was lending his aid. They were standing in the observa- 
tory of the temple of this god in Tanis, the Pharaoh’s 
capital in the north of the land of Goshen. He moved 
away, depriving the old man of the support of his 
shoulder, as he continued : “ There, there ! Is the sea 
sweeping over the land ? Have the clouds dropped on 
the earth to heave to and fro ? Oh, grandfather, look 
yonder ! May the Immortals have pity on us ! The 
under-world is yawning, and the giant serpent Apep 
has come forth from the realm of the dead. It is mov- 
ing past the temple. I see, I hear it. The great 
Hebrew’s menace is approaching fulfilment. Our race 
will be effaced from the earth. The serpent ! Its head 
is turned toward the southeast. It will devour the sun 
when it rises in the morning.” 

The old man’s eyes followed the youth’s finger, and 
he, too, perceived a huge, dark mass, whose outlines 
blended with the dusky night, come surging through 
the gloom; he, too, heard, with a thrill of terror, the 
monster’s loud roar. 

Both stood straining their eyes and ears to pierce 
the darkness ; but instead of gazing upward the star- 
reader’s eye was bent upon the city, the distant sea, and 
the level plain. Deep silence, yet no peace reigned 
above them : the high wind now piled the dark clouds 
into shapeless masses, anon severed the grey veil and 
drove the torn fragments far asunder. The moon was 
invisible to mortal eyes, but the clouds were toying 
with the bright Southern stars, sometimes hiding them, 
sometimes affording a free course for their beams. 
Sky and earth alike showed a constant interchange 
of pallid light and intense darkness. Sometimes the 


JOSHUA. 


3 


sheen of the heavenly bodies flashed brightly from 
sea and bay, the smooth granite surfaces of the obe- 
lisks in the precincts of the temple, and the gilded 
copper roof of the airy royal palace, anon sea and 
river, the sails in the harbor, the sanctuaries, the streets 
of the city, and the palm -grown plain which sur- 
rounded it vanished in gloom. Eye and ear failed 
to retain the impression of the objects they sought to 
discern ; for sometimes the silence was so profound 
that all life, far and near, seemed hushed and dead, 
then a shrill shriek of anguish pierced the silence of the 
night, followed at longer or shorter intervals by the 
loud roar the youthful priest had mistaken for the voice 
of the serpent of the nether-world, and to which grand- 
father and grandson listened with increasing suspense. 

The dark shape, whose incessant motion could be 
clearly perceived whenever the starlight broke through 
the clouds, appeared first near the city of the dead and 
the strangers’ quarter. Both the youth and the old man 
had been seized with terror, but the latter was the first 
to regain his self-control, and his keen eye, trained to 
watch the stars, speedily discovered that it was not a 
single giant form emerging from the city of the dead 
upon the plain, but a multitude of moving shapes that 
seemed to be swaying hither and thither over the mead- 
ow lands. The bellowing and bleating, too, did not 
proceed from one special place, but came now nearer 
and now farther away. Sometimes it seemed to issue 
from the bowels of the earth, and at others to float 
from some airy height. 

Fresh horror seized upon the old man. Grasping 
his grandson’s right hand in his, he pointed with his left 
to the necropolis, exclaiming in tremulous tones : “ The 


4 


JOSHUA. 


dead are too great a multitude. The under-world is 
overflowing, as the river does when its bed is not wide 
enough for the waters from the south. How they 
swarm and surge and roll onward ! How they scatter 
and sway to and fro. They are the souls of the thous- 
ands whom grim death has snatched away, laden with 
the curse of the Hebrew, unburied, unshielded from 
corruption, to descend the rounds of the ladder leading 
to the eternal world.” 

“Yes, yes, those are their wandering ghosts,” 
shrieked the youth in absolute faith, snatching his hand 
from the grey-beard’s grasp and striking his burning 
brow, exclaiming, almost incapable of speech in his hor- 
ror : “ Ay, those are the souls of the damned. The wind 
has swept them into the sea, whose waters cast them 
forth again upon the land, but the sacred earth spurns 
them and flings them into the air. The pure ether of 
Shu hurls them back to the ground and now — 
oh look, listen — they are seeking the way to the wil- 
derness.” 

“ To the fire !” cried the old astrologer. “ Purify 
them, ye flames ; cleanse them, water.” 

The youth joined his grandfather’s form of exor- 
cism, and while still chanting together, the trap-door 
leading to this observatory on the top of the highest 
gate of the temple was opened, and a priest of inferior 
rank called : “ Cease thy toil. Who cares to question 
the stars when the light of life is departing from all the 
denizens of earth !” 

The old man listened silently till the priest, in falter- 
ing accents, added that the astrologer’s wife had sent 
him, then he stammered : 

“ Hora ? Has my son, too, been stricken ?” 


JOSHUA. 


5 


The messenger bent his head, and the two listeners 
wept bitterly, for the astrologer had lost his first-born 
son and the youth a beloved father. 

But as the lad, shivering with the chill of fever, 
sank ill and powerless on the old man’s breast, the lat- 
ter hastily released himself from his embrace and hur- 
ried to the trap-door. Though the priest had announced 
himself to be the herald of death, a father’s heart needs 
more than the mere words of another ere resigning all 
hope of the life of his child. 

Down the stone stairs, through the lofty halls and 
wide courts of the temple he hurried, closely followed 
by the youth, though his trembling limbs could scarcely 
support his fevered body. The blow that had fallen up- 
on his own little circle had made the old man forget 
the awful vision which perchance menaced the whole 
universe with destruction ; but his grandson could not 
banish the sight and, when he had passed the fore-court 
and was approaching the outermost pylons his imagina- 
tion, under the tension of anxiety and grief, made the 
shadows of the obelisks appear to be dancing, while 
the two stone statues of King Rameses, on the comer 
pillars of the lofty gate, beat time with the crook they 
held in their hands. 

Then the fever struck the youth to the ground. His 
face was distorted by the convulsions which tossed his 
limbs to and fro, and the old man, falling on his knees, 
strove to protect the beautiful head, covered with clus- 
tering curls, from striking the stone flags, moaning 
under his breath : “ Now fate has overtaken him too.” 

Then calming himself, he shouted again and again 
for help, but in vain. At last, as he lowered his tones 
to seek comfort in prayer, he heard the sound of 


6 


JOSHUA. 


voices in the avenue of sphinxes beyond the pylons, 
and fresh hope animated his heart. 

Who was coming at so late an hour ? 

Loud wails of grief blended with the songs of the 
priests, the clinking and tinkling of the metal sistrums, 
shaken by the holy women in the service of the god, 
and the measured tread of men praying as they 
marched in the procession which was approaching the 
temple. 

Faithful to the habits of a long life, the astrologer 
raised his eyes and, after a glance at the double row of 
granite pillars, the colossal statues and obelisks in the 
fore-court, fixed them on the starlit skies. Even amid 
his grief a bitter smile hovered around his sunken lips ; 
to-night the gods themselves were deprived of the 
honors which were their due. 

For on this, the first night after the new moon in 
the month of Pharmuthi, the sanctuary in bygone 
years was always adorned with flowers. As soon as 
the darkness of this moonless night passed away, the 
high festival of the spring equinox and the harvest 
celebration would begin. 

A grand procession in honor of the great goddess 
Neith, of Rennut, who bestows the blessings of the 
fields, and of Horus at whose sign the seeds begin to 
germinate, passed, in accordance with the rules pre- 
scribed by the Book of the Divine Birth of the Sun, 
through the city to the river and harbor ; but to-day the 
silence of death reigned throughout the sanctuary, 
whose courts at this hour were usually thronged with 
men, women, and children, bringing offerings to lay on 
the very spot where death’s finger had now touched his 
grandson’s heart. 


JOSHUA. 


7 


A flood of light streamed into the vast space, 
hitherto but dimly illumined by a few lamps. Could 
the throng be so frenzied as to imagine that the joyous 
festival might be celebrated, spite of the unspeakable 
horrors of the night. 

Yet, the evening before, the council of priests had 
resolved that, on account of the rage of the merciless 
pestilence, the temple should not be adorned nor the 
procession be marshalled. In the afternoon many 
whose houses had been visited by the plague had 
remained absent, and now while he, the astrologer, had 
been watching the course of the stars, the pest had 
made its way into this sanctuary, else why had it 
been forsaken by the watchers and the other astrologers 
who had entered with him at sunset, and whose duty it 
was to watch through the night ? 

He again turned with tender solicitude to the 
sufferer, but instantly started to his' feet, for the gates 
were flung wide open and the light of torches and 
lanterns streamed into the court. A swift glance at 
the sky told him that it was a little after midnight, yet 
his fears seemed to have been true — the priests were 
crowding into the temples to prepare for the harvest 
festival to-morrow. 

But he was wrong. When had they ever entered 
the sanctuary for this purpose in orderly procession, 
solemnly chanting hymns ? Nor was the train com- 
posed only of servants of the deity. The population 
had joined them, for the shrill lamentations of women 
and wild cries of despair, such as he had never heard 
before in all his long life within these sacred walls, 
blended in the solemn litany. 

Or were his senses playing him false? Was the 


8 


JOSHUA. 


groaning throng of restless spirits which his grandson 
had pointed out to him from the observatory, pouring 
into the sanctuary of the gods ? 

New horror seized upon him; with arms flung 
upward to bid the specters avaunt he muttered the 
exorcism against the wiles of evil spirits. But he soon 
let his hands fall again; for among the throng he 
noted some of his friends who yesterday, at least, had 
still walked among living men. First, the tall form of 
the second prophet of the god, then the women conse- 
crated to the service of Amon-Ra, the singers and the 
holy fathers and, when he perceived behind the singers, 
astrologers, and pastophori his own brother-in-law, 
whose house had yesterday been spared by the plague, 
he summoned fresh courage and spoke to him. But 
his voice was smothered by the shouts of the advancing 
multitude. 

The courtyard was now lighted, but each indi- 
vidual was so engrossed by his own sorrows that no 
one noticed the old astrologer. Tearing the cloak 
from his shivering limbs to make a pillow for the 
lad’s tossing head, he heard, while tending him with 
fatherly affection, fierce imprecations on the Hebrews 
who had brought this woe on Pharaoh and his people, 
mingling with the chants and shouts of the approach- 
ing crowd and, recurring again and again, the name of 
Prince Rameses, the heir to the throne, while the tone 
in which it was uttered, the formulas of lamentation 
associated with it, announced the tidings that the eyes 
of the monarch’s first-born son were closed in death. 

The astrologer gazed at his grandson’s wan features 
with increasing anxiety, and even while the wailing for 
the prince rose loudei and louder a slight touch of 


JOSHUA. 


9 


gratification stirred his soul at the thought of the im- 
partial justice Death metes out alike to the sovereign 
on his throne and the beggar by the roadside. He 
now realized what had brought the noisy multitude to 
the temple ! 

With as much swiftness as his aged limbs would 
permit, he hastened forward to meet the mourners ; but 
ere he reached them he saw the gate-keeper and his 
wife come out of their house, carrying between them 
on a mat the dead body of a boy. The husband held 
one end, his fragile little wife the other, and the 
gigantic warder was forced to stoop low to keep the 
rigid form in a horizontal position and not let it slip 
toward the woman. Three children, preceded by a 
little girl carrying a lantern, closed the mournful pro- 
cession. 

Perhaps no one would have noticed the group, had 
not the gate-keeper’s little wife shrieked so wildly and 
piteously that no one could help hearing her lamenta- 
tions. The second prophet of Amon, and then his 
companions, turned toward them. The procession 
halted, and as some of the priests approached the 
corpse the gate-keeper shouted loudly : “ Away, away 
from the plague ! It has stricken our first-born son.” 

The wife meantime had snatched the lantern from 
her little girl’s hand and casting its light full on the 
dead boy’s rigid face, she screamed : 

“ The god hath suffered it to happen. Ay, he per- 
mitted the horror to enter beneath his own roof. Not 
his will, but the curse of the stranger rules us and our 
lives. Look, this was our first-born son, and the 
plague has also stricken two of the temple-servants. 
One already lies dead in our room, and there lies 


IO 


JOSHUA. 


Kamus, grandson of the astrologer Rameri. We heard 
the old man call, and saw what was happening; but 
who can prop another’s house when his own is falling ? 
Take heed while there is time ; for the gods have 
opened their own sanctuaries to the horror. If the 
whole world crumbles into ruin, I shall neither marvel 
nor grieve. My lord priests, I am only a poor lowly 
woman, but am I not right when I ask : Do our gods 
sleep, or has some ban paralyzed them, or what are 
they doing that they leave us and our children in the 
power of the base Hebrew brood ?” 

“ Overthrow them ! Down with the foreigners ! 
Death to the sorcerer Mesu,* hurl him into the sea.” 
Such were the imprecations that followed the woman’s 
curse, as an echo follows a shout, and the aged as- 
trologer’s brother-in-law Homecht, captain of the 
archers, whose hot blood seethed in his veins at the 
sight of the dying form of his beloved nephew, waved 
his short sword, crying frantically : “ Let all men who 
have hearts follow me. Upon them! A life for a 
life! Ten Hebrews for each Egyptian whom the 
sorcerer has slain !” 

As a flock rushes into a fire when the ram leads the 
way, the warrior’s summons fired the throng. Women 
forced themselves in front of the men, pressing after 
him into the gateway, and when the servants of the 
temple lingered to await the verdict of the prophet of 
Amon, the latter drew his stately figure to its full 
height, and said calmly : “ Let all who wear priestly 
garments remain and pray with me. The populace is 
heaven’s instrument to mete out vengeance. We will 
remain here to pray for their success.” 

* Mesu is the Egyptian name of the law-giver Moses. 


JOSHUA. 


II 


CHAPTER II. 

Bai, the second prophet of Amon,* who acted as 
the representative of the aged and feeble chief-prophet 
and high-priest Rui, went into the holy of holies, the 
throng of inferior servants of the divinity pursued 
their various duties, and the frenzied mob rushed 
through the streets of the city towards the distant 
Hebrew quarter. 

As the flood, pouring into the valley, sweeps every- 
thing before it, the people, rushing to seek vengeance, 
forced every one they met to join them. No Egyptian 
from whom death had snatched a loved one failed to 
follow the swelling torrent, which increased till hun- 
dreds became thousands. Men, women, and children, 
freedmen and slaves, winged by the ardent longing to 
bring death and destruction on the hated Hebrews, 
darted to the remote quarter where they dwelt. 

How the workman had grasped a hatchet, the 
housewife an axe, they themselves scarcely knew. They 
were dashing forward to deal death and ruin and had 
had no occasion to search for weapons — they had 
been close at hand. 

The first to feel the weight of their vengeance must 
be Nun, an aged Hebrew, rich in herds, loved and 
esteemed by many an Egyptian whom he had bene- 

* The real Egyptian name was Amun or Ammun (Herod, ii. 42 ; 
Pint, de Is. et Os. 9) ; the Greeks called him Zeus Ammon, the Rom- 
ans Jupiter Ammon, and the Hebrews Amon. (Jerem. xlvi, 25.)— 
Smith's Dicty. Gk. & Rom. Biog. 6* Myth. 


12 


JOSHUA. 


fited — but when hate and revenge speak, gratitude 
shrinks timidly into the background. 

His property, like the houses and hovels of his 
people, was in the strangers’ quarter, west of Tanis, 
and lay nearest to the streets inhabited by the Egypt- 
ians themselves. 

Usually at this hour herds of cattle and flocks of 
sheep were being watered or driven to pasture and the 
great yard before his house was filled with cattle, 
servants of both sexes, carts, and agricultural imple- 
ments. The owner usually overlooked the departure of 
the flocks and herds, and the mob had marked him and 
his family for the first victims of their fury. 

The swiftest of the avengers had now reached his 
extensive farm-buildings, among them Homecht, cap- 
tain of the archers, brother-in-law of the old astrologer. 
House and bams were brightly illumined by the first 
light of the young day. A stalwart smith kicked 
violently on the stout door; but the unbolted sides 
yielded so easily that he was forced to cling to the 
door-post to save himself from falling. Others, Hor- 
necht among them, pressed past him into the yard. 

What did this mean ? 

Had some new spell been displayed to attest the 
power of the Hebrew leader Mesu, — who had brought 
such terrible plagues on the land, — and of his God. 

The yard was absolutely empty. The stalls con- 
tained a few dead cattle and sheep, killed because they 
had been crippled in some way, while a lame lamb 
limped off at sight of the mob. The carts and wagons, 
too, had vanished. The lowing, bleating throng which 
the priests had imagined to be the souls of the damned 
was the Hebrew host, departing by night from their old 


JOSHUA. 


13 


home with all their flocks under the guidance of 
Moses. 

The captain of the archers dropped his sword, and 
a spectator might have believed that the sight was a 
pleasant surprise to him ; but his neighbor, a clerk 
from the king’s treasure-house, gazed around the empty 
space with the disappointed air of a man who has 
been defrauded. 

The flood of schemes and passions, which had 
surged so high during the night, ebbed under the clear 
light of day. Even the soldier’s quickly awakened 
wrath had long since subsided into composure. The 
populace might have wreaked their utmost fury on the 
other Hebrews, but not upon Nun, whose son, Hosea, 
had been his comrade in arms, one of the most distin- 
guished leaders in the army, and an intimate family 
friend. Had he thought of him and foreseen that his 
father’s dwelling would be first attacked, he would 
never have headed the mob in their pursuit of ven- 
geance ; nay, he bitterly repented having forgotten the 
deliberate judgment which befitted his years. 

While many of the throng began to plunder and 
destroy Nun’s deserted home, men and women came 
to report that not a soul was to be found in any of the 
neighboring dwellings. Others told of cats cowering 
on the deserted hearthstones, of slaughtered cattle and 
shattered furniture ; but at last the furious avengers 
dragged out a Hebrew with his family and a half- 
witted grey-haired woman found hidden among some 
straw. The crone, amid imbecile laughter, said her 
people had made themselves hoarse calling her, but 
Mehela was too wise to walk on and on as they meant 


14 


JOSHUA. 


to do ; besides her feet were too tender, and she hail 
not even a pair of shoes. 

The man, a frightfully ugly Jew, whom few of 
his own race would have pitied, protested, sometimes 
with a humility akin to fawning, sometimes with 
the insolence which was a trait of his character, that 
he had nothing to do with the god of lies in whose 
name the seducer Moses had led away his people to 
ruin ; he himself, his wife, and his child had always 
been on friendly terms with the Egyptians. Indeed, 
many knew him, he was a money-lender and when 
the rest of his nation had set forth on their pilgrimage, 
he had concealed himself, hoping to pursue his dis- 
honest calling and sustain no loss. 

Some of his debtors, however, were among the 
infuriated populace, though even without their presence 
he was a doomed man ; for he was the first person on 
whom the excited mob could show that they were 
resolved upon revenge. Rushing upon him with savage 
yells, the lifeless bodies of the luckless wretch and his 
family were soon strewn over the ground. Nobody 
knew who had done this first bloody deed ; too many 
had dashed forward at once. 

Not a few others who had remained in the houses 
and huts also fell victims to the people's thirst for ven- 
geance, though many had time to escape, and while 
streams of blood were flowing, axes were wielded, and 
walls and doors were battered down with beams and 
posts to efface the abodes of the detested race from the 
earth. 

The burning embers brought by some frantic women 
were extinguished and trampled out ; the more prudent 
warned them of the peril that would menace their own 


JOSHUA. 


l 5 

homes and the whole city of Tanis, if the strangers’ 
quarter should be fired. 

So the Hebrews’ dwellings escaped the flames ; but 
as the sun mounted higher dense clouds of white dust 
shrouded the abodes they had forsaken, and where, 
only yesterday, thousands of people had possessed 
happy homes and numerous herds had quenched their 
thirst in fresh waters, the glowing soil was covered with 
rubbish and stone, shattered beams, and broken wood- 
work. Dogs and cats left behind by their owners wan- 
dered among the ruins and were joined by women and 
children who lived in the beggars’ hovels on the edge 
of the necropolis close by, and now, holding their 
hands over their mouths, searched amid the stifling 
dust and rubbish for any household utensil or food 
which might have been left by the fugitives and over- 
looked by the mob. 

During the afternoon Bai, the second prophet of 
Amon, was carried past the ruined quarter. He did 
not come to gloat over the spectacle of destruction, it 
was his nearest way from the necropolis to his home. 
Yet a satisfied smile hovered around his stern mouth as 
he noticed how thoroughly the people had performed 
their work. His own purpose, it is true, had not 
been fulfilled, the leader of the fugitives had escaped 
their vengeance, but hate, though never sated, can yet 
be gratified. Even the smallest pangs of an enemy are 
a satisfaction, and the priest had just come from the 
grieving Pharaoh. He had not succeeded in releasing 
him entirely from the bonds of the Hebrew magician, 
but he had loosened them. 

The resolute, ambitious man, by no means wont to 
hold converse with himself, had repeated over and over 
25 


i6 


JOSHUA. 


again, while sitting alone in the sanctuary reflecting on 
what had occurred and what yet remained to be done, 
these little words, and the words were : “ Bless me 
too !” 

Pharaoh had uttered them, and the entreaty had 
been addressed neither to old Rui, the chief priest, nor 
to himself, the only persons who could possess the 
privilege of blessing the monarch, nay — but to the 
most atrocious wretch that breathed, to the foreigner 
the Hebrew, Mesu, whom he hated more than any 
other man on earth. 

“ Bless me too !” The pious entreaty, which wells 
so trustingly from the human heart in the hour of 
anguish, had pierced his soul like a dagger. It had 
seemed as if such a petition, uttered by the royal lips 
to such a man, had broken the crozier in the hand of 
the whole body of Egyptian priests, stripped the 
panther-skin from their shoulders, and branded with 
shame the whole people whom he loved. 

He knew full well that Moses was one of the wisest 
sages who had ever graduated from the Egyptian 
schools, knew that Pharaoh was completely under the 
thrall of this man who had grown up in the royal 
household and been a friend of his father Rameses the 
Great. He had seen the monarch pardon deeds com- 
mitted by Moses which would have cost the life of any 
other mortal, though he were the highest noble in the 
land — and what must the Hebrew be to Pharaoh, the 
sun-god incarnate on the throne of the world, when, 
standing by the death-bed of his own son, he could 
yield to the impulse to uplift his hands to him and cry : 

“ Bless me too !” 

He had told himself all these things, maturely con- 


JOSHUA. 


J 7 


sidered them, yet he would not yield to the might of 
the strangers. The destruction of this man and all his 
race was in his eyes the holiest, most urgent duty — to 
accomplish which he would not shrink even from 
assailing the throne. Nay, in his eyes Pharaoh Men- 
ephtah’s shameful entreaty : “ Bless me too !” had de- 
prived him of all the rights of sovereignty. 

Moses had murdered Pharaoh’s first-born son, but 
he and the aged chief-priest of Amon held the weal or 
woe of the dead prince’s soul in their hands, — a 
weapon sharp and strong, for he knew the monarch’s 
weak and vacillating heart. If the high-priest of 
Amon — the only man whose authority surpassed his 
own — did not thwart him by some of the unaccount- 
able whims of age, it would be the merest trifle to force 
Pharaoh to yield; but any concession made to-day 
would be withdrawn to-morrow, should the Hebrew 
succeed in coming between the irresolute monarch and 
his Egyptian advisers. This very day the unworthy 
son of the great Rameses had covered his face and 
trembled like a timid fawn at the bare mention of the 
sorcerer’s name, and to-morrow he might curse him 
and pronounce a death sentence upon him. Perhaps 
he might be induced to do this, and on the following 
one he would recall him and again sue tor his bless- 
ing. 

Down with such monarchs! Let the feeble reed 
on the throne be hurled into the dust ! Already he 
had chosen a successor from among the princes of the 
blood, and when the time was ripe — when Rui, the 
high-priest of Amon, had passed the limits of life 
decreed by the gods to mortals and closed his eyes in 
death, he, Bai, would occupy his place, a new life 


i8 


JOSHUA. 


would commence for Egypt, and Moses and his race 
would perish. 

While the prophet was absorbed in these reflections 
a pair of ravens fluttered around his head and, croaking 
loudly, alighted on the dusty ruins of one of the shat- 
tered houses. He involuntarily glanced around him 
and noted that they had perched on the corpse of a 
murdered Hebrew, lying half concealed amid the rub- 
bish. A smile which the priests of lower rank who sur- 
rounded his litter knew not how to interpret, flitted 
over his shrewd, defiant countenance. 


CHAPTER III. 

Hornecht, commander of the archers, was among 
the prophet’s companions. Indeed they were on terms 
of intimacy, for the soldier was a leader amid the 
nobles who had conspired to dethrone Pharaoh. 

As they approached Nun’s ruined dwelling, the 
prophet pointed to the wreck and said : “The former 
owner of this abode is the only Hebrew I would gladly 
spare. He was a man of genuine w'orth, and his son, 
Hosea ” 

“Will be one of us,” the captain interrupted. 
“ There are few better men in Pharaoh’s army, and,” 
he added, lowering his voice, “ I rely on him when the 
decisive hour comes.” 

“We will discuss that before fewer witnesses,” 
replied Bai'. “ But I am greatly indebted to him. Dur- 
ing the Libyan war — you are aware of the fact — I fell 
into the hands of the enemy, and Hosea, at the head 


JOSHUA. 


19 


of his little troop, rescued me from the savage hordes.” 
Sinking Ids tones, he went on in his most instructive 
manner, as though apologizing for the mischief wrought : 
“ Such is the course of earthly affairs ! Where a whole 
body of men merit punishment, the innocent must suffer 
>vith the guilty. Under such circumstances the gods 
themselves cannot separate the individual from the 
multitude ; nay, even the innocent animals share the 
penalty. Look at the flocks of doves fluttering around 
the ruins; they are seeking their cotes in vain. And 
the cat with her kittens yonder. Go and take them, 
Beki; it is our duty to save the sacred animals from 
starving to death.” 

And this man, who had just been planning the de- 
struction of so many of his fellow-mortals, was so 
warmly interested in kindly caring for the senseless 
beasts, that he stopped his litter and watched his 
servants catch the cats. 

This was less quickly accomplished than he had 
hoped; for one had taken refuge in the nearest cellar, 
whose opening was too narrow for the men to follow. 
The youngest, a slender Nubian, undertook the task; 
but he had scarcely approached the hole when he 
started back, calling: “There is a human being there 
who seems to be alive. Yes, he is raising his hand. 
It is a boy or a youth, and assuredly no slave; his 
head is covered with long waving locks, and — a sun- 
beam is shining into the cellar — I can see a broad 
gold circlet on his arm.” 

“ Perhaps it is one of Nun’s kindred, who has been 
forgotten,” said Homecht, and Ba'i eagerly added : 

“ It is an interposition from the gods ! Their 
sacred animals have pointed out the way by which I 


20 


JOSHUA. 


can render a service to the man . to whom I am so 
much indebted. Try to get in, Beki, and bring the 
youth out.” 

Meanwhile the Nubian had removed the stone 
whose fall had choked the opening, and soon after he 
lifted toward his companions a motionless young form 
which they brought into the open air and bore to a 
well whose cool water speedily restored conscious- 
ness. 

As he regained his senses, he rubbed his eyes, 
gazed around him bewildered, as if uncertain where 
he was, then his head drooped as though overwhelmed 
with grief and horror, revealing that the locks £t the 
back were matted together with black clots of dried 
blood. 

The prophet had the deep wound, inflicted on the 
lad by a falling stone, washed at the well and, after it 
had been bandaged, summoned him to his own litter, 
which was protected from the sun. 

The young Hebrew, bringing a message, had arrived 
at the house of his grandfather Nun, before sunrise, 
after a long night walk from Pithom, called by the 
Hebrews Succoth, but finding it deserted had lain 
down in one of the rooms to rest a while. Roused by 
the shouts of the infuriated mob, he had heard the 
curses on his race which rang through the whole 
quarter and fled to the cellar. The roof, which had 
injured him in its fall, proved his deliverance ; for the 
clouds of dust which had concealed everything as it 
came down hid him from the sight of the rioters. 

The prophet looked at him intently and, though 
the youth was unwashed, wan, and disfigured by the 
bloody bandage round his head, he saw that the lad he 


JOSHUA. 


21 


had recalled to life was a handsome, well-grown boy 
just nearing manhood. 

His sympathy was roused, and his stern glance soft- 
ened as he asked kindly whence he came and what had 
brought him to Tanis ; for the rescued youth’s features 
gave no clue to his race. He might readily have de- 
clared himself an Egyptian, but he frankly admitted that 
he was a grandson of Nun. He had just attained his 
eighteenth year, his name was Ephraim, like that of his 
forefather, the son of J oseph, and he had come to visit 
his grandfather. The words expressed steadfast self- 
respect and pride in his illustrious ancestry. 

He delayed a short time ere answering the question 
whether he brought a message ; but soon collected his 
thoughts and, looking the prophet fearlessly in the face, 
replied : 

“ Whoever you may be, I have been taught to 
speak the truth, so I will tell you that I have another 
relative in Tanis, Hosea, the son of Nun, a chief in 
Pharaoh’s army, for whom I have a message.” 

“ And I will tell you” the priest replied, “ that it 
was for the sake of this very Hosea I tarried here and 
ordered my servants to bring you out of the ruined 
house. I owe him a debt of gratitude, and though 
most of your nation have committed deeds worthy of 
the harshest punishment, for the sake of his worth you 
shall remain among us free and unharmed.” 

The boy raised his eyes to the priest with a proud, 
fiery glance, but ere he could find words, Bai went on 
with encouraging kindness. 

“ I believe I can read in your face, my lad, that 
you have come to seek admittance to Pharaoh’s army 
under your uncle Hosea. Your figure is well-suited to 


22 


JOSHUA. 


the trade of war, and you surely are not wanting in 
courage.” 

A smile of flattered vanity rested on Ephraim’s lips, 
and toying with the broad gold bracelet on his arm, 
perhaps unconsciously, he replied with eagerness : 

“ Ay, my lord, I have often proved my courage in 
the hunting field; but at home we have plenty of 
sheep and cattle, which even now I call my own, and 
it seems to me a more enviable lot to wander freely 
and rule the shepherds than to obey the commands of 
others.” 

“ Aha !” said the priest. “ Perhaps Hosea may 
instil different and better views. To rule — a lofty am- 
bition for youth. The misfortune is that we who have 
attained it are but servants whose burdens grow heavier 
with the increasing number of those who obey us. 
You understand me, Hornecht, and you, my lad, will 
comprehend my meaning later, when you become the 
palm-tree the promise of your youth foretells. But we 
are losing time. Who sent you to Hosea ?” 

The youth cast down his eyes irresolutely, but when 
the prophet broke the silence with the query : “ And 
what has become of the frankness you were taught ?” 
he responded promptly and resolutely : 

“ I came for the sake of a woman whom you know 
not.” 

“ A woman ?” the prophet repeated, casting an en- 
quiring glance at Hornecht. “ When a bold warrior 
and a fair woman seek each other, the Hathors * are 
apt to appear and use the binding cords ; but it does 


* The Egyptian goddesses of love, who are frequently repre- 
sented with cords in their hands. 


JOSHUA. 


2 3 


not befit a servant of the divinity to witness such goings- 
on, so I forbear farther questioning. Take charge of 
the lad, captain, and aid him to deliver his message to 
Hosea. The only doubt is whether he is in the city.” 

“No,” the soldier answered, “but he is expected 
with thousands of his men at the armory to-day.” 

“ Then may the Hathors, who are partial to love 
messengers, bring these two together to-morrow at 
latest,” said the priest. 

But the lad indignantly retorted : “ I am the bearer 
of no love message.” 

The prophet, pleased with the bold rejoinder, an- 
swered pleasantly : “ I had forgotten that I was accost- 
ing a young shepherd-prince.” Then he added in graver 
tones : “ When you have found Hosea, greet him from 
me and tell him that Ba'i, the second prophet of Amon, 
sought to discharge a part of the debt of gratitude he 
owed for his release from the hands of the Libyans by 
extending his protection to you, his nephew. Perhaps, 
my brave boy, you do not know that you have es- 
caped as if by a miracle a double peril ; the savage 
populace would no more have spared your life than 
would the stifling dust of the falling houses. Remember 
this, and tell Hosea also from me, Bai, that I am sure 
when he beholds the woe wrought by the magic arts of 
one of your race on the house of Pharaoh, to which he 
vowed fealty, and with it on this city and the whole 
country, he will tear himself with abhorrence from his 
kindred. They have fled like cowards, after dealing 
the sorest blows, robbing of their dearest possessions 
those among whom they dwelt in peace, whose protec- 
tion they enjoyed, and who for long years have given 
them work and ample food. All this they have done 


24 


JOSHUA. 


and, if I know him aright, he will turn his back upon 
men who have committed such crimes. Tell him also 
that this has been voluntarily done by the Hebrew 
officers and men under the command of the Syrian 
Aarsu. This very morning — Hosea will have heard 
the news from other sources — they offered sacrifices 
not only to Baal and Seth, their own gods, whom so 
many of you were ready to serve ere the accursed 
sorcerer, Mesu, seduced you, but also to Father Amon 
and the sacred nine of our eternal deities. If he will 
do the same, we will rise hand in hand to the highest 
place, of that he may be sure — and well he merits it. 
The obligation still due him I shall gratefully discharge 
in other ways, which must for the present remain secret. 
But you may tell your uncle now from me that I shall 
find means to protect Nun, his noble father, when the 
vengeance of the gods and of Pharaoh falls upon the 
rest of your race. Already — tell him this also — the 
sword is whetted, and a pitiless judgment is impending. 
Bid him ask himself what fugitive shepherds can do 
against the power of the army among whose ablest 
leaders he is numbered. Is your father still alive, my 
son ?” 

“ No, he was borne to his last resting-place long 
ago,” replied the youth in a faltering voice. 

Was the fever of his wound attacking him ? Or 
did the shame of belonging to a race capable of acts so 
base overwhelm the young heart ? Or did the lad 
cling to his kindred, and was it wrath and resentment 
at hearing them so bitterly reviled which made his 
color vary from red to pale and roused such a tumult 
in his soul that he was scarcely capable of speech ? 
No matter! This lad was certainly no suitable bearer 


JOSHUA. 


2 5 


of the message the prophet desired to send to his uncle, 
and Bai beckoned to Homecht to come with him 
under the shadow of a broad-limbed sycamore-tree. 

The point was to secure Hosea’s services in the 
army at any cost, so he laid his hand on his friend’s 
shoulder, saying: 

“ You know that it was my wife who won you and 
others over to our cause. She serves us better and 
more eagerly than many a man, and while I appreciate 
your daughter’s beauty, she never tires of lauding 
the winning charm of her innocence.” 

“ And Kasana is to take part in the plot ?” cried the 
soldier angrily. 

“ Not as an active worker, like my wife, — certainly 
not.” 

“ She would be ill-suited to such a task,” replied the 
other in a calmer tone, “ she is scarcely more than a 
child.” 

“ Yet through her aid we might bring to our cause 
a man whose good-will seems to me priceless.” 

“You mean Hosea?” asked the captain, his brow 
darkening again, but the prophet added : 

“ And if I do ? Is he still a real Hebrew ? Can 
you deem it unworthy the daughter of a distinguished 
warrior to bestow her hand on a man who, if our plans 
prosper, will be commander-in-chief of all the troops in 
the land ?” 

“ No, my lord !” cried Homecht, “ But one of my 
motives for rebelling against Pharaoh and upholding 
Siptah is that the king’s mother was a foreigner, while 
our own blood courses through Siptah’s veins. The 
mother decides the race to which a man belongs, and 


26 


JOSHUA. 


Hosea’s mother was a Hebrew woman. He is my 
friend, I value his talents ; Kasana likes him. . . 

“ Yet you desire a more distinguished son-in-law?’’ 
interrupted his companion. “ How is our arduous 
enterprise to prosper, if those who are to peril their 
lives for its success consider the first sacrifice too 
great? You say that your daughter favors Hosea?” 

“ Yes, she did care for him,” the soldier answered ; 
“yes, he was her heart’s desire. But I compelled 
her to obey me, and now that she is a widow, am I to 
give her to the man whom — the gods alone know 
with how much difficulty — I forced her to resign? 
When was such an act heard of in Egypt ?” 

“ Ever since the men and women who dwell by the 
Nile have submitted, for the sake of a great cause, to 
demands opposed to their wishes,” replied the priest. 
“ Consider all this, and remember that Hosea’s ances- 
tress — he boasted of it in your own presence — was 
an Egyptian, the daughter of a man of my own class.” 

“ How many generations have passed to the tomb 
since ?” 

“No matter ! It brings us into closer relations with 
him. That must suffice. Farewell until this evening. 
Meanwhile, will you extend your hospitality to Hosea’s 
nephew and commend him to your fair daughter’s 
nursing ; he seems in sore need of care.” 


JOSHUA. 


2 7 


CHAPTER IV. 

The house of Hornecht, like nearly every other 
dwelling in the city, was the scene of the deepest 
mourning. The men had shaved their hair, and the 
women had put dust on their foreheads. The archer’s 
wife had died long before, but his daughter and her 
women received him with waving veils and loud lamen- 
tations ; for the astrologer, his brother-in-law, had lost 
both his first-born son and his grandson, and the plague 
had snatched its victims from the homes of many a 
friend. 

But the senseless youth soon demanded all the care 
the women could bestow, and . after bathing him and 
binding a healing ointment on the dangerous wound in 
in his head, strong wine and food were placed before 
him, after which, refreshed and strengthened, he obeyed 
the summons of the daughter of his host. 

The dust-covered, worn-out fellow was transformed 
into a handsome youth. His perfumed hair fell in long 
curling locks from beneath the fresh white bandage, 
and gold-bordered Egyptian robes from the wardrobe 
of Kasana’s dead husband covered his pliant bronzed 
limbs. He seemed pleased with the finery of his gar- 
ments, which exhaled a subtle odor of spikenard new 
to his senses; for the eyes in his handsome face 
sparkled brilliantly. 

It was many a day since the captain’s daughter, 
herself a woman of unusual beauty and charm, had 
seen a handsomer youth. Within the year she had 


28 


JOSHUA. 


married a man she did not love Kasana had returned a 
widow to her father’s house, which lacked a mistress, 
and the great wealth bequeathed to her, at her hus- 
band’s death, made it possible for her to bring into the 
soldier’s unpretending home the luxury and ease which 
to her had now become a second nature. 

Her father, a stern man prone to sudden fits of 
passion, now yielded absolutely to her will. Formerly 
he had pitilessly enforced his own, compelling the girl 
of fifteen to wed a man many years her senior. This 
had been done because he perceived that Kasana had 
given her young heart to Hosea, the soldier, and he 
deemed it beneath his dignity to receive the Hebrew, 
who at that time held no prominent position in the 
army, as his son-in-law. An Egyptian girl had no 
choice save to accept the husband chosen by her father 
and Kasana submitted, though she shed so many bit- 
ter tears that the archer rejoiced when, in obedience to 
his will, she had wedded an unloved husband. 

But even as a widow Kasana’s heart clung to the 
Hebrew. When the army was in the field her anxiety 
was ceaseless ; day and night were spent in restlessness 
and watching. When news came from the troops 
she asked only about Hosea, and her father with deep 
annoyance attributed to her love for the Hebrew 
her rejection of suitor after suitor. As a widow she 
had a right to the bestowal of her own hand, and the 
tender, gentle-natured woman astonished Hornecht by 
the resolute decision displayed, not alone to him and 
lovers of her own rank, but to Prince Siptah, whose 
cause the captain had espoused as his own. 

To-day Kasana expressed her delight at the He- 
brew’s return with such entire frankness and absence of 


JOSHUA. 


2 9 


reserve that the quick-tempered man rushed out of the 
house lest he might be tempted into some thoughtless 
act or word. His young guest was left to the care of 
his daughter and her nurse. 

How deeply the lad’s sensitive nature was impressed 
by the airy rooms, the open verandas supported by 
many pillars, the brilliant hues of the painting, the artis- 
tic household utensils, the soft cushions, and the sweet 
perfume everywhere ! All these things were novel and 
strange to the son of a herdsman who had always lived 
within the grey walls of a spacious, but absolutely plain 
abode, and spent months together in canvas tents 
among shepherds and flocks, nay was more accustomed 
to be in the open air than under any shelter ! He felt 
as though some wizard had borne him into a higher 
and more beautiful world, where he was entirely at 
home in his magnificent garb, with his perfumed curls 
and limbs fresh from the bath. True, the whole earth 
was fair, even out in the pastures among the flocks or 
round the fire in front of the tent in the cool of the 
evening, when the shepherds sang, the hunters told 
■ tales of daring exploits, and the stars sparkled brightly 
overhead. 

But all these pleasures were preceded by weary, 
hateful labor ; here it was a delight merely to see and 
to breathe and, when the curtains parted and the young 
widow, giving him a friendly greeting, made him sit down 
opposite to her, sometimes questioning him and some- 
times listening with earnest sympathy to his replies, he 
almost imagined his senses had failed him as they had 
done under the ruins of the fallen house, and he was 
enjoying the sweetest of dreams. The feeling that 
threatened to stifle him and frequently interrupted the 


3 ° 


JOSHUA. 


flow of words was the rapture bestowed upon him by 
great Aschera, the companion of Baal, of whom the 
Phoenician traders who supplied the shepherds with 
many good things had told him such marvels, and 
whom the stern Miriam forbade him ever to name at 
home. 

His family had instilled into his young heart hatred 
of the Egyptians as the oppressors of his race, but 
could they be so wicked, could he detest a people 
among whom were creatures like this lovely, gentle 
woman, who gazed into his eyes so softly, so tenderly, 
whose voice fell on his ear like harmonious music, and 
whose glance made his blood course so swiftly that he 
could scarce endure it and pressed his hand upon his 
heart to quiet its wild pulsation. 

Kasana sat opposite to him on a seat covered with a 
panther-skin, drawing the fine wool from the distaff. 
He had pleased her and she had received him kindly 
because he was related to the man whom she had 
loved from childhood. She imagined that she could 
trace a resemblance between him and Hosea, though 
the youth lacked the grave earnestness of the man to 
whom she had yielded her young heart, she knew not 
why nor when, though he had never sought her love. 

A lotos blossom rested among her dark waving 
curls, and its stem fell in a graceful curve on her bent 
neck, round which clustered a mass of soft locks. 
When she lifted her eyes to his, he felt as though two 
springs had opened to pour floods of bliss into his 
young breast, and he had already clasped in greeting 
the dainty hand which held the yam. 

She now questioned him about Hosea and the 
woman who had sent the message, whether she was 


JOSHUA. 


31 


young and fair and whether any tie of love bound her 
to his uncle. 

Ephraim laughed merrily. She who had sent him 
was so grave and earnest that the- bare thought of her 
being capable of any tender emotion wakened his mirth. 
As to her beauty, he had never asked himself the ques- 
tion. 

The young widow interpreted the' laugh as the 
reply she most desired and; much relieved, laid aside 
the spindle and invited Ephraim to go into the garden. 

How fragrant and full of bloom it was, how well- 
kept were the beds, the paths, the arbors, and the 
pond. 

His unpretending home adjoined a dreary yard, 
wholly unadorned and filled with pens for sheep and 
cattle. Yet he knew that at some future day he would 
be owner of great possessions, for he was the sole child 
and heir of a wealthy father and his mother was the 
daughter of the rich Nun. The men servants had told 
him this more than once, and it angered him to see 
that his own home was scarcely better than Hornecht’s 
slave-quarters, to which Kasana had called his attention. 

During their stroll through the garden Ephraim 
was asked to help her cull the flowers and, when the 
basket he carried was filled, she invited him to sit with 
her in a bower and aid her to twine the wreaths. 
These were intended for the dear departed. Her 
uncle and a beloved cousin — - who bore some resem- 
blance to Ephraim — -had been snatched away the 
night before by the plague which his people had 
brought upon Tanis. 

From the street which adjoined the garden-wall 
they heard the wails of women lamenting the dead or 
26 


3 2 


JOSHUA. 


bearing a corpse to the tomb. Once, when the cries of 
woe rose more loudly and clearly than ever, Kasana 
gently reproached him for all that the people of Tanis 
had suffered through the Hebrews, and asked if he 
could deny that the Egyptians had good reason to 
hate a race which had brought such anguish upon 
them. 

It was hard for Ephraim to find a fitting answer ; 
he had been told that the God of his race had pun- 
ished the Egyptians to rescue his own people from 
shame and bondage, and he could neither condemn 
nor scorn the men of his own blood. So he kept 
silence that he might neither speak falsely nor blas- 
pheme ; but Kasana allowed him no peace, and he at 
last replied that aught which caused her sorrow was 
grief to him, but his people had no power over life and 
health, and when a Hebrew was ill, he often sent for 
an Egyptian physician. What had occurred was doubt- 
less the will of the great God of his fathers, whose power 
far surpassed the might of any other deity. He himself 
was a Hebrew, yet she would surely believe his assu- 
rance that he was guiltless of the plague and would 
gladly recall her uncle and cousin to life, had he the 
power to do so. For her sake he would undertake the 
most difficult enterprise. 

She smiled kindly and replied : 

“ My poor boy ! If I see any guilt in you, it is 
only that you are one of a race which knows no ruth, 
no patience. Our beloved, hapless dead! They must 
even lose the lamentations of their kindred; for the 
house where they rest is plague-stricken and no one is 
permitted to enter. ” 

She silently wiped her eyes and went on arranging 


JOSHUA. 


33 


her garlands, but tear after tear coursed down her 
cheeks. 

Ephraim knew not what to say, and mutely handed 
her the leaves and blossoms. Whenever his hand 
touched hers a thrill ran through his veins. His head 
and the wound began to ache, and he sometimes felt a 
slight chill. He knew that the fever was increasing, as 
it had done once before when he nearly lost his life in 
the red disease; but he was ashamed to own it and 
battled bravely against his pain. 

When the sun was nearing the horizon Hornecht 
entered the garden. He had already seen Hosea, and 
though heartily glad to greet his old friend once more, 
it had vexed him that the soldier’s first enquiry was for 
his daughter. He did not withhold this from the 
young widow, but his flashing eyes betrayed the dis- 
pleasure with which he delivered the Hebrew’s mes- 
sage. Then, turning to Ephraim, he told him that 
Hosea and his men would encamp outside of the city, 
pitching their tents, on account of the pestilence, 
between Tanis and the sea. They would soon march 
by. His uncle sent Ephraim word that he must seek 
him in his tent. 

When he noticed that the youth was aiding his 
daughter to weave the garlands, he smiled, and said : 

“ Only this morning this young fellow declared his 
intention of remaining free and a ruler all his life. 
Now he has taken service with you, Kasana. You 
need not blush, young friend. If either your mis- 
tress or your uncle can persuade you to join us and 
embrace the noblest trade — that of the soldier — so 
much the better for you. Look at me! I’ve wielded 
the bow more than forty years and still rejoice in my 


34 


JOSHUA. 


profession. I must obey, it is true, but it is also my 
privilege to command, and the thousands who obey 
me are not sheep and cattle, but brave men. Consider 
the matter again. He would make a splendid leader 
of the archers. What say you, Kasana ?” 

“ Certainly,’' replied the young widow. And she 
was about to say more, but the regular tramp of ap- 
proaching troops was heard on the other side of the 
garden- wall. A slight flush crimsoned Kasana’s cheeks, 
her eyes sparkled with a light that startled Ephraim 
and, regardless of her father or her guest, she darted 
past the pond, across paths and flower-beds, to a grassy 
bank beside the wall, whence she gazed eagerly toward 
the road and the armed host which soon marched by. 

Hosea, in full armor, headed his men. As he 
passed Homecht’s garden he turned his grave head, 
and seeing Kasana lowered his battle-axe in friendly 
salutation. 

Ephraim had followed the captain of the archers, 
who pointed out the youth’s uncle, saying : “ Shining 
armor would become you also, and when drums 
are beating, pipes squeaking shrilly, and banners 
waving, a man marches as lightly as if he had wings. 
To-day the martial music is hushed by the terrible woe 
brought upon us by that Hebrew villain. True, 
Hosea is one of his race yet, though I cannot forget 
that fact, I must admit that he is a genuine soldier, a 
model for the rising generation. Tell him what I 
think of him on this score. Now bid farewell to 
Kasana quickly and follow the men; the little side- 
door in the wall is open.” He turned towards the 
house as he spoke, and Ephraim held out his hand to 
bid the young widow farewell. 


JOSHUA. 


35 


She clasped it, but hurriedly withdrew her own, 
exclaiming anxiously : “ How burning hot your hand 
is ! You have a fever !” 

“ No, no,” faltered the youth, but even while speak- 
ing he fell upon his knees and the veil of unconscious- 
ness descended upon the sufferer’s soul, which had been 
the prey of so many conflicting emotions. 

Kasana was alarmed, but speedily regained her 
composure and began to cool his brow and head by 
bathing them with water from the neighboring pond. 
Yes, in his boyhood the man she loved must have re- 
sembled this youth. Her heart throbbed more quickly 
and, while supporting his head in her hands, she gently 
kissed him. 

She supposed him to be unconscious, but the re- 
freshing water had already dispelled the brief swoon, 
and he felt the caress with a thrill of rapture. But he 
kept his eyes closed, and would gladly have lain for a 
life-time with his head pillowed on her breast in the 
hope that her lips might once more meet his. But 
instead of kissing him a second time she called loudly 
for aid. He raised himself, gave one wild, ardent look 
into her face and, ere she could stay him, rushed like a 
strong man to the garden gate, flung it open, and fol- 
lowed the troops. He soon overtook the rear ranks, 
passed on in advance of the others, and at last reached 
their leader’s side and, calling his uncle by name, gave 
his own. Hosea, in his joy and astonishment, held 
out his arms, but ere Ephraim could fall upon his 
breast, he again lost consciousness, and stalwart soldiers 
bore the senseless lad into the tent the quartermaster 
had already pitched on a dune by the sea. 


3 6 


JOSHUA. 


CHAPTER V. 

It was midnight. A fire was blazing in front of 
Hosea’s tent, and he sat alone before it, gazing mourn- 
fully now into the flames and anon over the distant 
country. Inside the canvas walls Ephraim was lying 
on his uncle’s camp-bed. 

The surgeon who attended the soldiers had ban- 
daged the youth’s wounds, given him an invigorating 
cordial, and commanded him to keep still; for the 
violence with which the fever had attacked the lad 
alarmed him. 

But in spite of the leech’s prescription Ephraim 
continued restless. Sometimes Kasana’s image rose 
before his eyes, increasing the fever of his over-heated 
blood, sometimes he recalled the counsel to become a 
warrior like his uncle. The advice seemed wise — at 
least he tried to persuade himself that it was — because 
it promised honor and fame, but in reality he wished to 
follow it because it would bring her for whom his soul 
yearned nearer to him. 

Then his pride rose as he remembered the insults 
which she and her father had heaped on those to whom 
by every tie of blood and affection, he belonged. His 
hand clenched as he thought of the ruined home of his 
grandfather, whom he had ever regarded one of the 
noblest of men. Nor was his message forgotten. Miriam 
had repeated it again and again, and his clear memory 
retained every syllable, for he had unweariedly iterated 
it to himself during his solitary walk to Tanis. He was 


JOSHUA. 


37 


striving to do the same thing now but, ere he could 
finish, his mind always reverted to thoughts of Kasana. 

The leech had told Hosea to forbid the sufferer to 
talk and, when the youth attempted to deliver his mes- 
sage, the uncle ordered him to keep silence. Then the 
soldier arranged his pillow with a mother’s tenderness, 
gave him his medicine, and kissed him on the forehead. 
At last he took his seat by the fire before the tent and 
only rose to give Ephraim a drink when he saw by the 
stars that an hour had passed. 

The flames illumined Hosea’s bronzed features, re- 
vealing the countenance of a man who had confronted 
many a peril and vanquished all by steadfast persever- 
ance and wise consideration. His black eyes had an 
imperious look, and his full, firmly-compressed lips 
suggested a quick temper and, still more, the iron 
will of a resolute man. His broad-shouldered form 
leaned against some lances thrust crosswise into the 
earth, and when he passed his strong hand through 
his thick black locks or smoothed his dark beard, and 
his eyes sparkled with ire, it was evident that his soul 
was stirred by conflicting emotions and that he stood 
on the threshold of a great resolve. The lion was rest- 
ing, but when he starts up, let his foes beware ! 

His soldiers had often compared their fearless, reso- 
lute leader, with his luxuriant hair, to the king of beasts, 
and as he now shook his fist, while the muscles of his 
bronzed arm swelled as though they would burst the 
gold armlet that encircled them, and his eyes flashed 
fire, his awe-inspiring mien did not invite approach. 

Westward, the direction toward which his eyes were 
turned, lay the necropolis and the ruined strangers’ 
quarter. But a few hours ago he had led his troops 


3 « 


JOSHUA. 


through the ruins around which the ravens were circl- 
ing and past his father’s devastated home. 

Silently, as duty required, he marched on. Not 
until he halted to seek quarters for the soldiers did he 
hear from Hornecht, the captain of the archers, what 
had happened during the night. He listened silently, 
without the quiver of an eye-lash, or a word of question- 
ing, until his men had pitched their tents. He had but 
just gone to rest when a Hebrew maiden, spite of 
the menaces of the guard, made her way in to implore 
him, in the name of Eliab, one of the oldest slaves of his 
family, to go with her to the old man, her grandfather. 
The latter, whose weakness prevented journeying, had 
been left behind, and directly after the departure of the 
Hebrews he and his wife had been carried on an ass to 
the little hut near the harbor, which generous N un, his 
master, had bestowed on the faithful slave. 

The grand-daughter had been left to care for the 
feeble pair, and now the old servant’s heart yearned for 
one more sight of his lord’s first-born son whom, when 
a child, he had carried in his arms. He had charged 
the girl to tell Hosea that Nun had promised his people 
that his son would abandon the Egyptians and cleave 
to his own race. The tribe of Ephraim, nay the whole 
Hebrew nation had hailed these tidings with the utmost 
joy. Eliab would give him fuller details ; she herself had 
been well nigh dazed with weeping and anxiety. He 
would earn the richest blessings if he would only 
follow her. 

The soldier realized at once that he must fulfil this 
desire, but he was obliged to defer his visit to the old 
slave until the next morning. The messenger, however, 


JOSHUA. 


39 


even in her haste, had told him many incidents she had 
seen herself or heard from others. 

At last she left him. He rekindled the fire and, so 
long as the flames burned brightly, his gaze was bent 
with a gloomy, thoughtful expression upon the west. 
Not till they had devoured the fuel and merely flickered 
with a faint bluish light around the charred embers did 
he fix his eyes on the whirling sparks. And the longer 
he did so, the deeper, the more unconquerable became 
the conflict in his soul, whose every energy, but yester- 
day, had been bent upon a single glorious goal. 

The war against the Libyan rebels had detained 
him eighteen months from his home, and he had seen 
ten crescent moons grow full since any news had 
reached him of his kindred. A few weeks before he 
had been ordered to return, and when to-day he ap- 
proached nearer and nearer to the obelisks towering 
above Tanis, the city of Rameses, his heart had pulsed 
with as much joy and hopefulness as if the man of 
thirty were once more a boy. 

Within a few short hours he should again see his 
beloved, noble father, who had needed great delibera- 
tion and much persuation from Hosea’s mother — long 
since dead — ere he would permit his son to follow the 
bent of his inclinations and enter upon a military life 
in Pharaoh’s army. He had anticipated that very day 
surprising him with the news that he had been pro- 
moted above men many years his seniors and of 
Egyptian lineage. Instead of the slights Nun had 
dreaded, Hosea’s gallant bearing, courage and, as he 
modestly added, good-fortune had gained him pro- 
motion, yet he had remained a Hebrew. When 


40 


JOSHUA. 


he felt the necessity of offering to some god sacrifices 
and prayer, he had bowed before Seth, to whose temple 
Nun had led him when a child, and whom in those days 
all the people in Goshen in whose veins flowed Semitic 
blood had worshipped. But he also owed allegiance to 
another god, not the God of his fathers, but the deity 
revered by all the Egyptians who had been initi- 
ated. He remained unknown to the masses, who 
could not have understood him; yet he was adored 
not only by the adepts but by the majority of those 
who had obtained high positions in civil or military 
life — whether they were servants of the divinity or not 
— and Hosea, the initiated and the stranger, knew him 
also. Everybody understood when allusion was made 
to “ the God,” the “ Sum of All,” the “ Creator of Him- 
self,” and the “ Great One.” Hymns extolled him, in- 
scriptions on the monuments, which all could read, 
spoke of him, the one God, who manifested himself to 
the world, pervaded the universe, and existed through- 
out creation not alone as the vital spark animates the 
human organism, but as himself the sum of creation, 
the world with its perpetual growth, decay, and renewal, 
obeying the laws he had himself ordained. His spirit, 
existing in every form of nature, dwelt also in man, 
and wherever a mortal gazed he could discern the 
rule of the “ One.” X othing could be imagined with- 
out him, therefore he was one like the God of Israel. 
Nothing could be created nor happen on earth apart 
from him, therefore, like Jehovah, he was omnipotent, 
Hosea had long regarded both as alike in spirit, 
varying only in name. Whoever adored one was 
a servant of the other, so the warrior could have en- 
tered his father’s presence with a clear conscience, and 


JOSHUA. 


41 


told him that although in the service of the king he 
had remained loyal to the God of his nation. 

Another thought had made his heart pulse faster 
and more joyously as he saw in the distance the py- 
lons and obelisks of Tanis ; for on countless marches 
through the silent wilderness and in many a lonely camp 
he had beheld in imagination a virgin of his own race, 
whom he had known as a singular child, stirred by 
marvellous thoughts, and whom, just before leading his 
troops to the Libyan war, he had again met, now a dig- 
nified maiden of stern and unapproachable beauty. 
She had journeyed from Succoth to Tanis to attend his 
mother’s funeral, and her image had been deeply im- 
printed on his heart, as his — he ventured to hope — on 
hers. She had since become a prophetess, who heard 
the voice of her God. While the other maidens of his 
people were kept in strict seclusion, she was free to 
come and go at will, even among men, and spite of her 
hate of the Egyptians and of Hosea’s rank among them, 
she did not deny that it was grief to part and that she 
would never cease thinking of him. His future wife 
must be as strong, as earnest, as himself. Miriam was 
both, and quite eclipsed a younger and brighter vision 
which he had once conjured before his memory with 
joy. 

He loved children, and a lovelier girl than 
Kasana he had never met, either in Egypt or in alien 
lands. The interest with which the fair daughter of his 
companion-in-arms watched his deeds and his destiny, 
the modest yet ardent devotion afterwards displayed by 
the much sought-after young widow, who coldly re- 
pelled all other suitors, had been a delight to him in 
times of peace. Prior to her marriage he had thought 


42 


JOSHUA. 


of her as the future mistress of his home, but her wed- 
ding another, and Hornecht’s oft-repeated declaration 
that he would never give his child to a foreigner, had 
hurt his pride and cooled his passion. Then he met 
Miriam and was fired with an ardent desire to make her 
his wife. Still, on the homeward march the thought of 
seeing Kasana again had been a pleasant one. It was 
fortunate he no longer wished to wed Homecht’s 
daughter ; it could have led to naught save trouble. 
Both Hebrews and Egyptians held it to be an abomi- 
nation to eat at the same board, or use the same seats 
or knives. Though he himself was treated by his com- 
rades as one of themselves, and had often heard 
Kasana’s father speak kindly of -his kindred, yet 
“ strangers ” were hateful in the eyes of the captain of 
the archers, and of all free Egyptians. 

He had found in Miriam the noblest of women. 
He hoped that Kasana might make another happy. 
To him she would ever be the charming child from 
whom we expect nothing save the delight of her 
presence. 

He had come to ask from her, as a tried friend ever 
ready for leal service, a joyous glance. From Miriam 
he would ask herself, with all her majesty and beauty, 
for he had borne the solitude of the camp long enough, 
and now that on his return no mother’s arms opened to 
welcome him, he felt for the first time the desolation of 
a single life. He longed to enjoy the time of peace 
when, after dangers and privations of every kind, he 
could lay aside his weapons. It was his duty to lead a 
wife home to his father’s hearth and to provide against 
the extinction of the noble race of which he was the 
sole representative. Ephraim was the son of his sister. 


JOSHUA. 


43 


Filled with the happiest thoughts, he had advanced 
toward Tanis and, on reaching the goal of all his hopes 
and wishes, found it lying before him like a ripening 
grain-field devastated by hail and swarms of locusts. 

As if in derision, fate led him first to the Hebrew 
quarter. A heap of dusty ruins marked the site of the 
house where he had spent his childhood, and for which 
his heart had longed; and where his loved ones had 
watched his departure, beggars were now greedily 
searching for plunder among the debris. 

The first man to greet him in Tanis was Kasana’s 
father. Instead of a friendly glance from her eyes, he 
had received from him tidings that pierced his inmost 
heart. He had expected to bring home a wife, and 
the house where she was to reign as mistress was 
razed to the ground. The father, for whose blessing 
he longed, and who was to have been gladdened by 
his advancement, had journeyed far away and must 
henceforward be the foe of the sovereign to whom he 
owed his prosperity. 

He had been proud of rising, despite his origin, to 
place and power. Now he would be able, as leader of 
a great host, to show the prowess of which he was ca- 
pable. His inventive brain had never lacked schemes 
which, if executed by his superiors, would have had 
good results ; now he could fulfil them according to his 
own will, and instead of the tool become the guiding 
power. 

These reflections had awakened a keen sense of ex- 
ultation in his breast and winged his steps on his home- 
ward march and, now that he had reached the goal, so 
long desired, must he turn back to join the shepherds 
and builders to whom — it now seemed a sore misfor- 


44 


JOSHUA. 


tune — he belonged by the accident of birth and an- 
cestry, though, denial was futile, he felt as utterly 
alien to the Hebrews as he was to the Libyans whom 
he had confronted on the battle-field. In almost every 
pursuit he valued, he had nothing in common with his 
people. He had believed he might truthfully answer 
yes to his father’s enquiry whether he had returned a 
Hebrew, yet he now felt it would be only a reluctant 
and half-hearted assent. 

He clung with his whole soul to the standards 
beneath which he had gone to battle and might now 
himself lead to victory. Was it possible to wrench his 
heart from them, renounce what his own deeds had 
won? Yet Eliab’s granddaughter had told him that 
the Hebrews expected him to leave the army and join 
them. A message from his father must soon reach 
him — and among the Hebrews a son never opposed a 
parent’s command. 

There was still another to whom implicit obedience 
was due, Pharaoh, to whom he had solemnly vowed 
loyal service, sworn to follow his summons without 
hesitation or demur, through fire and water, by day and 
night. 

How often he had branded the soldier who de- 
serted to the foe or rebelled against the orders of his 
commander as a base scoundrel and villain, and by his 
orders many a renegade from his standard had died a 
shameful death on the gallows under his own eyes. 
Was he now to commit the deed for which he had 
despised and killed others ? His prompt decision was 
known throughout the army, how quickly in the most 
difficult situations he could resolve upon the right 
course and carry it into action ; but during this dark 


JOSHUA. 


45 


and lonely hour of the night he seemed to himself a 
mere swaying reed, and felt as helpless as a forsaken 
orphan. 

Wrath against himself preyed upon him, and when he 
thrust a spear into the flames, scattering the embers and 
sending a shower of bright sparks upward, it was rage 
at his own wavering will that guided his hand. 

Had recent events imposed upon him the virile 
duty of vengeance, doubt and hesitation would have 
vanished and his father’s summons would have spurred 
him on to action; but who had been the heaviest 
sufferers here? Surely it was the Egyptians whom 
Moses’ curse had robbed of thousands of beloved lives, 
while the Hebrews had escaped their revenge by flight. 
His wrath had been kindled by the destruction of the 
Hebrews’ houses, but he saw no sufficient cause for a 
bloody revenge, when he remembered the unspeakable 
anguish inflicted upon Pharaoh and his subjects by the 
men of his own race. 

Nay ; he had nothing to avenge ; he seemed to him- 
self like a man who beholds his father and mother in 
mortal peril, owns that he cannot save both, yet knows 
that while staking his life to rescue one he must leave 
the other to perish. If he obeyed the summons of his 
people, he would lose his honor, which he had kept as 
untarnished as his brazen helm, and with it the highest 
goal of his life; if he remained loyal to Pharaoh and 
his oath, he must betray his own race, have all his 
future days darkened by his father’s curse, and resign 
the brightest dream he cherished; for Miriam was a 
true child of her people and he would be blest in- 
deed if her lofty soul could be as ardent in love as it 
was bitter in hate. 


46 


JOSHUA. 


Stately and beautiful, but with gloomy eyes and hand 
upraised in warning, her image rose before his mental 
vision as he sat gazing over the smouldering fire out 
into the darkness. And now the pride of his manhood 
rebelled, and it seemed base cowardice to cast aside, 
from dread of a woman’s wrath and censure, all that 
a warrior held most dear. 

“Nay, nay,” he murmured, and the scale contain- 
ing duty, love, and filial obedience suddenly kicked the 
beam. He was what he was — the leader of ten 
thousand men in Pharaoh's army. He had vowed 
fealty to him — and to none other. Let his people fly 
from the Egyptian yoke, if they desired. He, Hosea, 
scorned flight. Bondage had sorely oppressed them, 
but the highest in the land had received him as an 
equal and held him worthy of the loftiest honor. To 
repay them with treachery and desertion was foreign to 
his nature and, drawing a long breath, he sprang to his 
feet with the conviction that he had chosen aright. A 
fair woman and the weak yearning of a loving heart 
should not make him a recreant to grave duties and 
the loftiest purposes of his life. 

“I will stay!” cried a loud voice in his breast. 
“Father is wise and kind, and when he learns the 
reasons for my choice he will approve them and bless, 
instead of cursing me. I will write to him, and the 
boy Miriam sent me shall be the messenger.” 

A call from the tent startled him and when, spring- 
ing up, he glanced at the stars, he found that he had 
forgotten his duty to the suffering lad and hurried to 
his couch. 

Ephraim was sitting up in his bed, watching for 
him, and exclaimed : “ I have been waiting a long, long 


JOSHUA. 


47 


time to see you. So many thoughts crowd my brain 
and, above all, Miriam’s message. I can get no rest 
until I have delivered it — so listen now.” 

Hosea nodded assent and, after drinking the heal- 
ing potion handed to him, Ephraim began : 

“Miriam the daughter of Amram and Jochebed 
greets the son of Nun the Ephraimite. Thy name 
is Hosea, ‘the Help,’ and the Lord our God hath 
chosen thee to be the helper of His people. But 
henceforward, by His command, thou shalt be called 
Joshua,* the help of Jehovah; for through Miriam’s 
lips the God of her fathers, who is the God of thy 
fathers likewise, bids thee be the sword and buckler of 
thy people. In Him dwells all power, and He promises 
to steel thine arm that He may smite the foe.” 

Ephraim had begun in a low voice, but gradually 
his tones grew more resonant and the last words rang 
loudly and solemnly through the stillness of the night. 

Thus had Miriam uttered them, laying her hands 
on the lad’s head and gazing earnestly into his face 
with eyes deep and dark as night, and while repeat- 
ing them he had felt as though some secret power were 
constraining him to shout them aloud to Hosea, just as 
he had heard them from the lips of the prophetess. 
Then, with a sigh of relief, he turned his face toward 
the canvas wall of the tent, saying quietly : 

“Now I will go to sleep.” 

But Hosea laid his hand on his shoulder, exclaim- 
ing imperiously : “ Say it again.” 

The youth obeyed, but this time he repeated the 
words in a low, careless tone, then saying beseechingly : 

* Literally Jehoshua. he who helps Jehova. 

27 


4 8 


JOSHUA. 


“ Let me rest now,” put his hand under his cheek and 
closed his eyes. 

Hosea let him have his way, carefully applied a 
fresh bandage to his burning head, extinguished the 
light, and flung more fuel on the smouldering fire out- 
side ; but the alert, resolute man performed every act as 
if in a dream. At last he sat down, and propping his 
elbows on his knees and his head in his hands, stared 
alternately, now into vacancy, and anon into the flames. 

Who was this God who summoned him through 
Miriam’s lips to be, under His guidance, the sword and 
shield of His people ? 

He was to be known by a new name, and in the 
minds of the Egyptians the name was everything. “ Hon- 
or to the name of Pharaoh,” not “ Honor to Pharaoh" 
was spoken and written. And if henceforward he was 
to be called Joshua, the behest involved casting aside 
his former self, and becoming a new man. 

The will of the God ot his fathers announced to 
him by Miriam meant no less a thing than the com- 
mand to transform himself from the Egyptian his 
life had made him, into the Hebrew he had been when 
a lad. He must learn to act and feel like an Israelite ! 

Miriam’s summons called him back to his people. 
The God of his race, through her, commanded him to 
fulfil his father’s expectations. Instead of the Egyptian 
troops whom he must forsake, he was in future to lead 
the men of his own blood forth to battle ! This 
was the meaning of her bidding, and when the noble 
virgin and prophetess who addressed him, asserted that 
God Himself spoke through her lips, it was no idle 
boast, she was really obeying the will of the Most 
High. And now the image of the woman whom 


JOSHUA. 


49 


he had ventured to love, rose in unapproachable 
majesty before him. Many things which he had 
heard in his childhood concerning the God of Abra- 
ham, and His promises returned to his mind, and the 
scale which hitherto had been the heavier, rose 
higher and higher. The resolve just matured, now 
seemed uncertain, and he again confronted the terrible 
conflict he had believed was overpast. 

How loud, how potent was the call he heard ! 
Ringing in his ears, it disturbed the clearness and 
serenity of his mind, and instead of calmly reflecting on 
the matter, memories of his boyhood, which he had im- 
agined were buried long ago, raised their voices, and 
incoherent flashes of thought darted through his brain. 

Sometimes he felt impelled to turn in prayer to the 
God who summoned him, but whenever he attempted 
to calm himself and uplift his heart and eyes to Him, he 
remembered the oath he must break, the soldiers he 
must abandon to lead, instead of well-disciplined, 
brave, obedient bands of brothers-in-arms, a wretched 
rabble of cowardly slaves, and rude, obstinate shep- 
herds, accustomed to the heavy yoke of bondage. 

The third hour after midnight had come, the guards 
had been relieved, and Hosea thought he might now per- 
mit himself a few hours repose. He would think all these 
things over again by daylight with his usual clear judg- 
ment, which he strove in vain to obtain now. But when 
he entered the tent and heard Ephraim’s regular breath- 
ing, he fancied that the boy’s solemn message was 
again echoing in his ears. Startled, he was in the act 
of repeating it himself, when loud voices in violent alter- 
cation among the sentinels disturbed the stillness of 
the night. 


5 ° 


JOSHUA. 


The interruption was welcome, and he hurried to 
the outposts. 


CHAPTER VI. 

Hogla, the old slave’s granddaughter, had come to 
beseech Hosea to go with her at once to her grand- 
father, who had suddenly broken down, and who feeling 
the approach of death could not perish without having 
once more seen and blessed him. 

The warrior told her to wait and, after assuring him- 
self that Ephraim was sleeping quietly, ordered a 
trusty man to watch beside Jiis bed and went away 
with Hogla. 

The girl walked before him, carrying a small lan- 
tern, and as its light fell on her face and figure, he saw 
how unlovely she was, for the hard toil of slavery had 
bowed the poor thing’s back before its time. Her voice 
had the harsh accents frequently heard in the tones of 
women whose strength has been pitilessly tasked ; but 
her words were kind and tender, and Hosea forgot her 
appearance when she told him that her lover had gone 
with the departing tribes, yet she had remained with her 
grandparents because she could not bring herself to 
leave the old couple alone. Because she had no beauty 
no man had sought her for his wife till Assir came, who 
did not care for her looks because he toiled indus- 
triously, like herself, and expected her to add to his 
savings. He would gladly have stayed with her, but 
his father had commanded him to go forth, so there 
was no choice for them save to obey and part forever. 


JOSHUA. 


51 


The words were simple and the accents harsh, yet 
they pierced the heart of the man who was preparing to 
follow his own path in opposition to his father’s will. 

As they approached the harbor and Hosea saw the 
embankments, and the vast fortified storehouses built 
by his own people, he remembered the ragged laborers 
whom he had so often beheld crouching before the 
Egyptian overseers or fighting savagely among them- 
selves. He had heard, too, that they shrunk from no 
lies, no fraud to escape their toil, and how difficult was 
the task of compelling them to obey and fulfil their 
duty. x 

The most repulsive forms among these luckless 
hordes rose distinctly before his vision, and the thought 
that it might henceforward be his destiny to command 
such a wretched rabble seemed to him ignominy which 
the lowest of his brave officers, the leader of but fifty 
men, would seek to avoid. True, Pharaoh’s armies con- 
tained many a Hebrew mercenary who had won re- 
nown for bravery and endurance ; but these men were 
the sons of owners of herds or people who had once 
been shepherds. The toiling slaves, whose clay huts 
could be upset by a kick, formed the majority of those 
to whom he was required to return. 

Resolute in his purpose to remain loyal to the oath 
which bound him to the Egyptian standard, yet moved 
to the very depths of his heart, he entered the slave’s 
little hut, and his anger rose when he saw old Eliab 
sitting up, mixing some wine and water with his own 
hands. So he had been summoned from his nephew’s 
sick-bed, and robbed of his night’s rest, on a false pre- 
tence, in order that a slave, in his eyes scarcely entitled 
to rank as a man, might have his way. Here he him- 


5 2 


JOSHUA. 


self experienced a specimen of the selfish craft of which 
the Egyptians accused his people, and which certainly 
did not attract him, Hosea, to them. But the anger of 
the just, keen sighted-man quickly subsided at the sight 
of the girl’s unfeigned joy in her grandfather’s speedy 
recovery. Besides he soon learned from the old man’s 
aged wife that, shortly after Hogla’s departure, she re- 
membered the wine they had, and as soon as he swal- 
lowed the first draught her husband, whom she had 
believed had one foot in the grave, grew better and 
better. Now he was mixing some more of God’s gift 
to strengthen himself occasionally by a sip. 

Here Eliab interrupted her to say that they owed this 
and many more valuable things to the goodness of Nun, 
Hosea’s father, who had given them, besides their little 
hut, wine, meal for bread, a milch cow, and also an ass, 
so that he could often ride out into the fresh air. He 
had likewise left them their granddaughter and some 
pieces of silver, so that they could look forward with- 
out fear to the end of their days, especially as they had 
behind the house a bit of ground, where Hogla meant 
to raise radishes, onions, and leeks for their own table. 
But the best gift of all was the written document 
making them and the girl free forever. Ay, Nun was 
a true master and father to his people, and the blessing 
of Jehovah had followed his gifts; for soon after the 
departure of the Hebrews, he and his wife had been 
brought hither unmolested by the aid of Assir, Hogla’s 
lover. 

“ We old people shall die here,” Eliab’s wife added. 
But Assir promised Hogla that he would come back 
for her when she had discharged her filial duties to the 
end. 


JOSHUA. 


53 


Then, turning to her granddaughter, she said 
encouragingly : “ And we cannot live much longer 
now.” 

Hogla raised her blue gown to wipe the tears from 
her eyes, exclaiming : 

“ May it be a long, long time yet. I am young 
and can wait.” 

Hosea heard the words, and again it seemed as 
though the poor, forsaken, unlovely girl was giving him 
a lesson. 

He had listened patiently to the freed slaves’ talk, 
but his time was limited and he now asked whether 
Eliab had summoned him for any special purpose. 

“ Ay,” he replied ; “ I was obliged to send, not 
only to still the yearning of my old heart, but because 
my lord Nun commanded me to do. so.” . 

“ Thou hast attained a grand and noble manhood* 
and hast now become the hope of Israel. Thy father 
promised the slaves and freedmen of his household that 
after his death, thou wouldst be heir, lord and master. 
His words were full of thy praise, and great rejoicing 
hailed his statement that thou wouldst follow the depart- 
ing Hebrews. And my lord deigned to command me to 
tell thee, if thou should’st return ere his messenger ar- 
rived, that Nun, thy father, expected his son. Whither- 
soever thy nation may wander, thou art to follow. 
Toward sunrise, or at latest by the noon-tide hour, the 
tribes will tarry to rest at Succoth. He will conceal in 
the hollow sycamore that stands in front of Amminadab’s 
house a letter which will inform thee whither they will 
next turn their steps. His blessing and that of our 
God will attend thy every step.” 

As Eliab uttered the last words, Hosea bowed his 


54 


JOSHUA. 


head as if inviting invisible hands to be laid upon 
it. Then he thanked the old man and asked, in sub- 
dued tones, whether all the Hebrews had willingly 
obeyed the summons to leave house and lands. 

His aged wife clasped her hands, exclaiming : “ Oh 
no, my lord, certainly not. What wailing and weeping 
filled the air before their departure ! Many refused to 
go, others fled, or sought some hiding-place. But all 
resistance was futile. In the house of our neighbor 
Deuel — you know him — his young wife had just 
given birth to their first son. How was she to fare on 
the journey? She wept bitterly and her husband 
uttered fierce curses, but it was all in vain. She was 
put in a cart with her babe, and as the arrangements 
went on, both submitted like all the rest — even 
Phineas who crept into a pigeon-house with his wife and 
five children, and crooked grave-haunting Kusaja. Do 
you remember her? Adona'i! She had seen father, 
mother, husband, and three noble sons, all that the Lord 
had given her to love, borne to the tomb. They lay 
side by side in our burying ground, and every morning 
and evening she went there and, sitting on a log of wood 
which she had rolled close to the gravestones, moved her 
lips constantly, not in prayer — no, I have listened 
often when she did not know I was near — no; she 
talked to the dead, as though they could hear her in 
the sepulchre, and understand her words like those who 
walk alive beneath the sun. She is near seventy, and 
for thrice seven years she has gone by the name ol 
grave-haunting Kusaja. It was in sooth a foolish 
thing to do ; yet perhaps that was why she found it all 
the harder to give it up, and go she would not, but 
hid herself among the bushes. When Ahieser, the 


JOSHUA. 


55 


overseer, dragged her out, her wailing made one’s heart 
sore, yet when the time for departure came, the long- 
ing to go seized upon her also, and she found it as 
hard to resist as the others.” 

“ What had happened to the poor creatures, what 
possessed them ?” asked Hosea, interrupting the old 
wife’s speech ; for in imagination he again beheld the 
people he must lead, if he valued his father’s blessing as 
the most priceless boon the world could offer, and 
beheld them in all their wretchedness. 

The startled dame, fearing that she had offended 
her master’s first-born son, the great and powerful 
chieftain, stammered : 

“What possessed them, my lord? Ah, well — I 
am but a poor lowly slave-woman; yet, my lord, had 
you but seen it. . . 

“ Well, even then ?” interrupted the warrior in 
harsh, impatient tones, for this was the first time he 
had ever found himself compelled to act against his 
desires and belief. 

Eliab tried to come to the assistance of the terrified 
woman, saying timidly : 

“Ah, my lord, no tongue can relate, no human 
mind can picture it. It came from the Almighty and, 
if I could describe how great was its influence on the 
souls of the people. . . 

“ Try,” Hosea broke in, “ but my time is brief. So 
they were compelled to depart, and set forth reluctantly 
on their wanderings. Even the Egyptians have long 
known that they obeyed the bidding of Moses and 
Aaron as the sheep follow the shepherd. Have those 
who brought the terrible pestilence on so many guilt- 


56 


JOSHUA. 


less human beings also wrought the miracle of blinding 
the minds of you and of your wife ?” 

The old man stretched out his hands to the soldier, 
and answered in a troubled voice and a tone of the 
most humble entreaty : 

“ Oh, my lord, you are my master’s first-born son, 
the greatest and loftiest of your race, if it is your 
pleasure you can trample me into the dust like a 
beetle, yet I must lift up my voice and say: ‘You 
have heard false tales!’ You were away in foreign 
lands when mighty things were done in our midst, and 
far from Zoan,* as I hear, when the exodus took place. 
Any son of our people who witnessed it would rather 
his tongue should wither than mock at the marvels the 
Lord permitted him to behold. Ah, if you had 
patience to suffer me to tell the tale. . . .” 

“Speak on!” cried Hosea, astonished at the old 
man’s solemn fervor. Eliab thanked him with an 
ardent glance, exclaiming : 

“ Oh, would that Aaron, or Eleasar, or my lord 
your father were here in my stead, or would that 
Jehovah would bestow on me the might of their elo- 
quence! But be it as it is! True, I imagine I can 
again see and hear everything as though it were hap- 
pening once more before my eyes, but how am I to 
describe it ? How can such things be given in words ? 
Yet, with God’s assistance, I will try.” 

Here he paused and Hosea, noticing that the old 
man’s hands and lips were trembling, gave him the cup 
of wine, and Eliab gratefully quaffed it to the dregs. 
Then, half-closing his eyes, he began his story and his 
wrinkled features grew sharper as he went on : 

‘‘The Hebrew name of Tanis. 


JOSHUA. 


57 


“ My wife has already told you what occurred after 
the people learned the command that had been issued. 
We, too, were among those who lost courage and mur- 
mured. But last night, all who belonged to the house- 
hold of Nun — and also the shepherds, the slaves, and 
the poor — were summoned to a feast, and there was 
abundance of roast lamb, fresh, unleavened bread, and 
wine, more than usual at the harvest festival, which 
began that night, and which you, my lord, have often 
attended in your boyhood. We sat rejoicing, and our 
lord, your father, comforted us, and told us of the God 
of our fathers and the wonders He had wrought for 
them. It was now His will that we should go forth 
from this land where we had suffered contempt and 
bondage. This was no sacrifice like that of Abraham 
when, at the command of the Most High, he had 
whetted his knife to shed the blood of his son Isaac, 
though it would be hard for many of us to quit a 
home that had grown dear to us and forego many 
a familiar custom. But it will be a great happiness 
for us all. For, he said, we were not to journey 
forth to an unknown country, but to a beautiful region 
which God Himself had set apart for us. He had 
promised us, instead of this place of bondage, a new 
and delightful home where we should dwell free men, 
amid fruitful fields and rich pastures, which would 
supply food to every man and his family and make all 
hearts rejoice. Just as laborers must work hard to 
earn high wages, we must endure a brief period of want 
and suffering to gain for ourselves and for our children 
the beautiful new home which the Lord had promised. 
God’s own land it must be, for it was a gift of the Most 
High. 


5 « 


JOSHUA. 


“ Having spoken thus, he blessed us all and prom- 
ised that thou, too, wouldst shake the dust from off thy 
feet, and join us to fight for our cause with a strong arm 
as a trained soldier and a dutiful son. 

“ Shouts of joy rang forth and, when we assembled 
in the market-place and found that all the bondmen 
had escaped from the overseers, many gained fresh 
courage. Then Aaron stepped into our midst, stood 
upon the auctioneer’s bench, and told us with his own 
lips all that we had heard from my master Nun at the 
festival. The words he uttered sounded sometimes 
like pealing thunder, and anon like the sweet melody 
of lutes, and every one felt that the Lord our God 
Himself was speaking through him ; for even the most 
rebellious were so deeply moved that they no longer 
complained and murmured. And when he finally an- 
nounced to the throng that no erring mortal, but the 
Lord our God Himself would be our leader, and de- 
scribed the wonders of the land whose gates He would 
open unto us, and where we might live, trammelled by 
no bondage, as free and happy men, owing no obedi- 
ence to any ruler save the God of our fathers and 
those whom we ourselves chose for our leaders, every 
man present felt as though he were drunk with sweet 
wine, and, instead of faring forth across a barren wil- 
derness to an unknown goal, was on the way to a great 
festal banquet, prepared by the Most High Himself. 
Even those who had not heard Aaron’s words were 
inspired with wondrous faith; men and women be- 
haved even more joyously and noisily than usual at the 
harvest festival, for every heart was overflowing with 
genuine gratitude. 

“ The old people caught the universal spirit ! Your 


JOSHUA. 


59 


grandfather Elishama, bowed by the weight of his 
hundred years, who, as you know, has long sat bent 
and silent in his comer, straightened his drooping form, 
and with sparkling eyes poured forth a flood of elo- 
quent words. The spirit of the Lord had descended 
upon him and upon us all. I myself felt as though the 
vigor of youth had returned to mind and body, and 
when I passed the throngs who were preparing to set 
forth, I saw the young mother Elisheba in her litter. 
Her face was as radiant as on her marriage morn, and 
she was pressing her nursling to her breast, and rejoic- 
ing over his happy fate in growing up in freedom in 
the Promised Land. Her spouse, Deuel, who had 
poured forth such bitter imprecations, now waved his 
staff, kissed his wife and child with tears of joy, and 
shouted with delight like a vintager at the harvest 
season, when jars and wine skins are too few to hold the 
blessing. Old grave-haunting Kusaja, who had been 
dragged away from the sepulchre of her kindred, was 
sitting in a cart with other infirm folk, waving her veil 
and joining in the hymn of praise Elkanah and Abia- 
saph, the sons of Korah, had begun. So they went 
forth ; we who were left behind fell into each other’s 
arms, uncertain whether the tears we shed streamed 
from our eyes for grief or for sheer joy at seeing the 
throng of our loved ones so full of hope and gladness. 

“ So it came to pass. 

“ As soon as the pitch torches borne at the head of 
the procession, which seemed tome to shine more brightly 
than the lamps lighted by the Egyptians on the gates 
of the temple of the great goddess Neith, had vanish- 
ed in the darkness, we set out, that we might not delay 
Assir too long, and while passing through the streets, 


6o 


JOSHUA. 


which resounded with the wailing of the citizens, we 
softly sang the hymn of the sons of Korah, and great 
joy and peace filled our hearts, for we knew that the 
Lord our God would defend and guide His people.” 

The old man paused, but his wife and Hogla, who 
had listened with sparkling eyes, leaned one on the 
other and, without any prompting, began the hymn of 
praise of the sons of Korah, the old woman’s faint 
voice mingling with touching fervor with the tones of 
the girl, whose harsh notes thrilled with the loftiest 
enthusiasm. 

Hosea felt that it would be criminal to interrupt the 
outpouring of these earnest hearts, but Eliab soon 
stopped them and gazed with evident anxiety into the 
stern face of his lord’s first-born son. 

Had Hosea understood him ? 

Did this warrior, who served under Pharaoh’s ban- 
ner, realize how entirely the Lord God Himself had 
ruled the souls of his people at their departure. 

Had the life among the Egyptians so estranged him 
from his people and his God, rendered him so degene- 
rate, that he would bid defiance to the wishes and 
commands of his own father ? 

Was the man on whom the Hebrews’ highest hopes 
were fixed a renegade, forever lost to his people ? 

He received no verbal answer to these mute ques- 
tions, but when Hosea grasped his callous right hand 
in both his own and pressed it as he would have 
clasped a friend’s, when he bade him farewell with 
tearful eyes, murmuring: “You shall hear from me!” 
he felt that he knew enough and, overwhelmed with 
passionate delight, he pressed kiss after kiss upon the 
warrior’s arms and clothing. 


JOSHUA. 


6i 


CHAPTER VII. 

Hosea returned to the camp with drooping head. 
The conflict in his soul was at an end. He now knew 
what duty required. He must obey his father’s sum- 
mons. 

And the God of his race ! 

The old man’s tale had given new life to the 
memories of his childhood, and he now knew that He 
was not the same God as the Seth of the Asiatics in 
Lower Egypt, nor the “ One ” and the “ Sum of All ” 
of the adepts. 

The prayers he had uttered ere he fell asleep, 
the history of the creation of the world, which he 
could never hear sufficiently often, because it showed 
so clearly the gradual development of everything on 
earth and in heaven until man came to possess and 
enjoy all, the story of Abraham and Isaac, of Jacob, 
Esau, and his own ancestor, Joseph — how gladly he 
had listened to these tales as they fell from the lips of 
the gentle woman who had given him life, and from 
those of his nurse, and his grandfather Elishama. Yet 
he imagined that they had faded from his memory long 
ago. 

But in old Eliab’s hovel he could have repeated the 
stories word for word, and he now knew that there was 
indeed one invisible, omnipotent God, who had pre- 
ferred his race above all others, and had promised to 
make them a mighty people. 

The truths concealed by the Egyptians under the 


62 


JOSHUA. 


greatest mystery were the common property of his 
race. Every beggar, every slave, might raise his hands 
in supplication to the one invisible God who had re- 
vealed Himself unto Abraham. 

Shrewd Egyptians, who had divined His existence 
and shrouded His image with monstrous shapes, bom 
of their own thoughts and imaginations, had drawn a 
thick veil over Him, hidden Him from the masses. 
Among the Hebrews alone did He really live and dis- 
play His power in all its mighty, heart-stirring grandeur. 

He was not nature, with whom the initiated in the 
temples confounded Him. No, the God of his fathers 
was far above all created things and the whole visible 
universe, far above man, His last, most perfect work, 
whom He had formed in His own image; and every 
living creature was subject to His will. The Might- 
iest of Kings, He ruled the universe with stem justice, 
and though He withdrew Himself from the sight and 
understanding of man, His image, He was neverthe- 
less a living, thinking, moving Being, though His span 
of existence was eternity, His mind omniscience, His 
sphere of sovereignty infinitude. 

And this God had made Himself the leader of 
His people ! There was no warrior who could 
venture to cope with His might. If the spirit of 
prophecy had not deceived Miriam, and the Lord had 
indeed commanded Hosea to wield His sword, how 
dared he resist, what higher position could earth offer? 

And his people ? The rabble of whom he had 
thought so scornfully, what a transformation seemed to 
have been wrought in them by the power of the Most 
High, since he had listened to old Eliab’s tale ! Now he 
longed to be their leader, and midway to the camp he 


JOSHUA. 


63 


paused on a sand-hill, whence he could see the limit- 
less expanse of the sea shimmering under the sheen of 
the twinkling stars of heaven,, and for the first time 
in many a long, long year, he raised his arms and eyes 
to the God whom he had found once more. 

He began with a little prayer his mother had 
taught him ; then he cried out to the Almighty as to a 
powerful counselor, imploring him with fervent zeal to 
point out the way in which he should walk without 
being disobedient to Him or to his father, or breaking 
the oath he had sworn to Pharaoh and becoming a 
dishonored man in the eyes of those to whom he owed 
so great a debt of gratitude. 

“Thy chosen people praise Thee as the God of 
Truth, Who dost punish those who forswear their 
oaths,” he prayed. “ How canst Thou command me 
to be faithless and break the vow that I have made. 
Whatever I am, whatever I may accomplish, belongs 
to Thee, Oh Mighty Lord, and I am ready to devote 
my blood, my life to my people. But rather than 
render me a dishonored and perjured man, take me 
away from earth and commit the work which Thou 
hast chosen Thy servant to perform, to the hands of 
one who is bound by no solemn oath.” 

So he prayed, and it seemed as if he clasped in his 
embrace a long-lost friend. Then he walked on in 
silence through the vanishing dusk, and when the first 
grey light of morning dawned, the flood of feeling 
ebbed, and the clear-headed warrior regained his calm- 
ness of thought. 

He had vowed to do nothing against the will of his 
father or his God, but he was no less firmly resolved 
to be neither perjurer nor renegade. His duty was clear 
28 


6 4 


JOSHUA. 


and plain. He must leave Pharaoh’s service, first tell- 
ing his superiors that, as a dutiful son, he must obey his 
father’s commands, and share his fate and that of his 
people. 

Yet he did not conceal from himself that his request 
might be refused, that he might be detained by force, 
nay, perchance, if he insisted on carrying out his pur- 
pose with unshaken will, he might be menaced with 
death, or if the worst should come, even delivered over 
to the executioner. But if this should be his doom, if 
his purpose cost him his life, he would still have done 
what was right, and his comrades, whose esteem he 
valued, could still think of him as a brave brother-in- 
arms. Nor would his father and Miriam be angry with 
him, nay, they would mourn the faithful son, the 
upright man, who chose death rather than dishonor. 

Calm and resolute, he gave the pass-word with 
haughty bearing to the sentinel and entered his tent. 

Ephraim was still lying on his couch, smiling as if 
under the thrall of pleasant dreams. Hosea threw 
himself on a mat beside him to seek strength for the 
hard duties of the coming day. Soon his eyes closed, 
too, and, after an hour’s sound sleep, he woke without 
being roused and called for his holiday attire, his 
helmet, and the gilt coat-of-mail he wore at great fes- 
tivals or in the presence of Egypt’s king. 

Meantime Ephraim, too, awoke, looked with mingled 
curiosity and delight at his uncle, who stood before 
him in all the splendor of his manhood and glittering 
panoply of war, and exclaimed : 

“It must be a proud feeling to wear such garments 
and lead thousands to battle.” 

Hosea shrugged his shoulders and replied : 


JOSHUA. 


6 S 


“ Obey thy God, give no man, from the loftiest to 
the lowliest, a right to regard you save with respect, 
and you can hold your head as high as the proudest 
warrior who ever wore purple robe and golden armor.” 

“ But you have done great deeds among the Egyp- 
tians,” Ephraim continued. “They hold you in high 
regard; even captain Homecht and his daughter, 
Kasana.” 

“ Do they ?” asked the soldier smiling, and then 
bid his nephew keep quiet; for his brow, though less 
fevered than the night before, was still burning. 

“ Don’t go into the open air until the leech has 
seen you,” Hosea added, “ and wait here till my 
return.” 

“ Shall you be absent long ?” asked the lad. 

Hosea paused for a moment, lost in thought then, 
with a kindly glance at him answered, gravely : 

“ Whoever serves a master knows not how long he 
may be detained.” Then, changing his tone, he con- 
tinued less earnestly. “ To-day — this morning — 
perchance I may finish my business speedily and return 
in a few hours. If not, if I do not come back to you 
this evening or early to-morrow morning, then. . . .” he 
laid his hand on the lad’s shoulder as he spoke — 
“then go home at your utmost speed. When you 
reach Succoth, if the people have gone before your 
coming, you will find in the hollow sycamore before 
Amminadab’s house a letter which will tell you whither 
they have turned their steps. When you overtake 
them, give my greetings to my father, to my grand- 
father Elishama, and to Miriam. Tell them that Hosea 
will be mindful of the commands of his God and of his 
father. In future he will call himself Joshua — Joshua, 


66 


JOSHUA. 


do you hear ? Tell this to Miriam first. Finally, 
tell them that if I remain behind and am not suffered 
to follow them, as I would like to, that the Most High 
has made a different disposal of His servant and has 
broken the sword which He had chosen, ere He used 
it. Do you understand me, boy ?” 

Ephraim nodded, and answered : 

“You mean that death alone can stay you from 
obeying the summons of God, and your father’s com- 
mand.” 

“Ay, that was my meaning,” replied the chief. 
“If they ask why I did not slip away from Pharaoh 
and escape his power, say that Hosea desired to enter 
on his new office as a true man, unstained by perjury 
or, if it is the will of God, to die one. Now repeat the 
message.” 

Ephraim obeyed ; his uncle’s remarks must have 
sunk deep into his soul; for he neither forgot nor 
altered a single word. But scarcely had he performed 
the task of repetition when, with impetuous earnestness, 
he grasped Hosea’s hand and besought him to tell him 
whether he had any cause to fear for his life. 

The warrior clasped him affectionately in his arms 
and answered that he hoped he had entrusted this 
message to him only to have it forgotten. “ Perhaps,” 
he added, “ they will strive to keep me by force, but 
by God’s help I shall soon be with you again, and we 
will ride to Succoth together.” 

With these words he hurried out, unheeding the 
questions his nephew called after him; for he had 
heard the rattle of wheels outside. Two chariots, 
drawn by mettled steeds, rapidly approached the tent 
and stopped directly before the entrance. 


JOSHUA. 


67 


CHAPTER VIII. 

The men who stepped from the chariots were old 
acquaintances of Hosea. They were the head cham- 
berlain and one of the king’s chief scribes, come to 
summon him to the Sublime Porte.* 

No hesitation nor escape was possible, and Hosea, 
feeling more surprise than anxiety, entered the second 
chariot with the chief scribe. Both officials wore mourn- 
ing robes, and instead of the white ostrich plume, the 
insignia of office, black ones waved over the temples of 
both. The horses and runners of the two-wheeled 
chariots were also decked with all the emblems of the 
deepest woe. And yet the monarch’s messengers 
seemed cheerful rather than depressed; for the eagle 
they were to bear to Pharaoh was ready to obey his 
behest, and they had feared that they would find his 
eyrie abandoned. 

Swift as the wind the long-limbed bays of royal 
breed bore the light vehicles over the uneven sandy 
road and the smooth highway toward the palace. 

Ephraim, with the curiosity of youth, had gone out 
of the tent to view a scene so novel to his eyes. The 
soldiers were pleased by the Pharaoh’s sending his own 
carriage for their commander, and the lad’s vanity was 
flattered to see his uncle drive away in such state. 
But he was not permitted the pleasure of watching him 
long; dense clouds of dust soon hid the vehicles. 

* Palace of the king. The name of Pharaoh means “ the Sublime 
Porte.’’ 


68 


JOSHUA. 


The scorching desert wind which, during the Spring 
months, so often blows through the valley of the Nile, 
had risen, and though the bright blue sky which had 
been visible by night and day was still cloudless, it was 
veiled by a whitish mist. 

The sun, a motionless ball, glared down on the 
heads of men like a blind man’s eye. The burning 
heat it diffused seemed to have consumed its rays, 
which to-day were invisible. The eye protected by the 
mist could gaze at it undazzled, yet its scorching power 
was undiminished. The light breeze, which usually 
fanned the brow in the morning, touched it now like 
the hot breath of a ravening beast of prey. Loaded 
with the fine scorching sand borne from the desert, it 
transformed the pleasure of breathing into a painful 
torture. The air of an Egyptian March morning, 
which was wont to be so balmy, now oppressed both 
man and beast, choking their lungs and seeming to 
weigh upon them like a burden destroying all joy in 
life. 

The higher the pale rayless globe mounted into the 
sky, the greyer became the fog, the more densely and 
swiftly blew the sand-clouds from the desert. 

Ephraim was still standing in front of the tent, gazing 
at the spot where Pharaoh’s chariots had disappeared. 
His knees trembled, but he attributed it to the wind 
sent by Seth-Typhon, at whose blowing even the 
strongest felt an invisible burden clinging to their 
feet. 

Hosea had gone, but he might come back in a few 
hours, then he, Ephraim, would be obliged to go with 
him to Succoth, and the bright dreams and hopes which 
yesterday had bestowed and whose magical charms 


JOSHUA. 69 

were heightened by his fevered brain, would be lost to 
hitn forever. 

During the night he had firmly resolved to enter 
Pharaoh’s army, that he might remain near Tanis and 
Kasana; but though he had only half comprehended 
Hosea’s message, he could plainly discern that he 
intended to turn his back upon Egypt and his high 
position and meant to take Ephraim with him, should 
he make his escape. So he must renounce his longing 
to see Kasana once more. But this thought was un- 
bearable and an inward voice whispered that, having 
neither father nor mother, he was free to act ac- 
cording to his own will. His guardian, his dead 
father’s brother, in whose household he had grown up, 
had died not long before, and no new guardian had 
been named because the lad was now past childhood. 
He was destined at some future day to be one of the 
chiefs of his proud tribe and until yesterday he had 
desired no better fate. 

He had obeyed the impulse of his heart when, with 
the pride of a shepherd prince, he had refused the 
priest’s suggestion that he should become one of Pha- 
raoh’s soldiers, but he now told himself that he had 
been childish and foolish to reject a thing of which he 
was ignorant, nay, which had ever been intentionally 
represented to him in a false and hateful light in order 
to bind him more firmly to his own people. 

The Egyptians had always been described as detest- 
able enemies and oppressors, yet how enchanting every- 
thing seemed in the house of the first Egyptian warrior 
he had entered. 

And Kasana! 

What must she think of him, if he left Tanis with- 


70 


JOSHUA. 


out a word of greeting, of farewell. Must, it not grieve 
and wound him to remain in her memory a clumsy 
peasant shepherd ? Nay, it would be positively dis- 
honest not to return the costly raiment she had lent 
him. Gratitude was reckoned among the Hebrews also 
as the first duty of noble hearts. He would be worthy 
of hate his whole life long, if he did not seek her once 
more ! 

But there was need of haste. When Hosea re- 
turned, he must find him ready for departure. 

He at once began to bind his sandals on his feet, 
but he did it slowly, and could not understand why 
the task seemed so hard to-day. 

He passed through the camp unmolested. The 
pylons and obelisks before the temples, which appear- 
ed to quiver in the heated air, marked the direction he 
was to pursue, and he soon reached the broad road 
which led to the market-place — a panting merchant 
whose ass was bearing skins of wine to the troops, told 
him the way. 

Dense clouds of dust lay on the road and whirled 
around him, the sun beat fiercely down on his bare 
head, his wound began to ache again, the fine sand 
which filled the air entered his eyes and mouth and stung 
his face and bare limbs like burning needles. He was 
tortured by thirst and was often compelled to stop, his 
feet grew so heavy. At last he reached a well dug for 
travelers by a pious Egyptian, and though it was 
adorned with the image of a god and Miriam had 
taught him that this was an abomination from which he 
should turn aside, he drank again and again, thinking he 
had never tasted aught so refreshing. 

The fear of losing consciousness, as he had done the 


JOSHUA. 


7 1 


day before, passed away and, though his feet were still 
heavy, he walked rapidly toward the alluring goal. 
But soon his strength again deserted him, the sweat 
poured from his brow, his wound began to throb and 
beat, and he felt as though his skull was compressed by 
an iron circle. His keen eyes, too, failed, for the 
objects he tried to see blended with the dust of the 
road, the horizon reeled up and down before his eyes, 
and he felt as though the hard pavement had turned to 
a yielding bog under his feet. 

Yet he took little heed of all these things, for never 
before had such bright visions filled his mind. His 
thoughts grew marvellously vivid, and image after 
image rose before the wide eyes of his soul, not at his 
own behest, but as if summoned by a secret will outside 
of his consciousness. Now he fancied that he was lying 
at Kasana’s feet, resting his head on her lap while he 
gazed upward into her lovely face — anon he saw Hosea 
standing before him in his glittering armor, as he had 
beheld him a short time ago, only his garb was still 
more gorgeous and, instead of the dim light in the 
tent, a ruddy glow like that of fire surrounded him. 
Then the finest oxen and rams in his herds passed before 
him and sentences from the messages he had learned 
darted through his mind ; nay he sometimes imagined 
that they were being shouted to him aloud. But ere he 
could grasp their import, some new dazzling vision or 
loud rushing noise seemed to fill his mental eye and 
ear. 

He pressed onward, staggering like a drunken man, 
with drops of sweat standing on his brow and with 
parched mouth. Sometimes he unconsciously raised 
his hand to wipe the dust from his burning eyes, but he 


72 


JOSHUA. 


cared little that he saw very indistinctly what was pass- 
ing around him, for there could be nothing more 
beautiful than what he beheld with his inward vision. 

True, he was often aware that he was suffering 
intensely, and he longed to throw himself exhausted on 
the ground, but a strange sense of happiness sustained 
him. At last he was seized with the delusion that his 
head was swelling and growing till it attained the size 
of the head of the colossus he had seen the day before 
in front of a temple gate, then it rose to the height of 
the palm-trees by the road-side, and finally it. reached 
the mist shrouding the firmament, then far above it. 
Then it suddenly seemed as though this head of his was 
as large as the whole world, and he pressed his hands 
on his temples to clasp his brow; for his neck and 
shoulders were too weak to support the weight of so 
enormous a head and, mastered by this strange de- 
lusion, he shrieked aloud, his shaking knees gave way, 
and he fell unconscious in the dust. 


CHAPTER IX. 

At the same hour a chamberlain was ushering 
Hosea into the audience chamber. 

Usually subjects summoned to the presence of the 
king were kept waiting for hours, but the Hebrew’s 
patience was not tried long. During this period of the 
deepest mourning the spacious rooms of the palace, 
commonly tenanted by a gay and noisy multitude, were 
hushed to the stillness of death ; for not only the slaves 
and warders, but many men and women in close at* 


JOSHUA. 


73 


tendance on the royal couple had fled from the pesti- 
lence, quitting the palace without leave. 

Here and there a solitary priest, official, or courtier 
leaned against a pillar or crouched on the floor, hiding 
his face in his hands, while awaiting some order. 
Sentries paced to and fro with lowered weapons, lost in 
melancholy thoughts. Now and then a few young 
priests in mourning robes glided through the infected 
rooms, silently swinging silver censers which diftused a 
pungent scent of resin and juniper. 

A nightmare seemed to weigh upon the palace and 
its occupants; for in addition to grief for their be- 
loved prince, which saddened many a heart, the dread 
of death and the desert wind paralyzed alike the energy 
of mind and body. 

Here in the immediate vicinity of the throne where, 
in former days, all eyes had sparkled with hope, ambi- 
tion, gratitude, fear, loyalty, or hate, Hosea now 
encountered only drooping heads and downcast looks. 

Bai, the second prophet of Amon, alone seemed 
untouched alike by sorrow, anxiety, or the enervating 
atmosphere of the day ; he greeted the warrior in the 
ante-room as vigorously and cheerily as ever, and as- 
sured him — though in the lowest whisper — that no 
one thought of holding him responsible for the mis- 
deeds of his people. But when Hosea volunteered the 
acknowledgment that, at the moment of his summons 
to the king, he had been in the act of going to the 
commander-in-chief to beg a release from military 
service, the priest interrupted him to remind him of the 
debt of gratitude he, Bai, owed to him as the preserver 
of his life. Then he added that he would make every 
eftort in his power to keep him in the armv and show 


74 


JOSHUA. 


that the Egyptians — even against Pharaoh’s will, of 
which he would speak farther with him privately — 
knew how to honor genuine merit without distinction 
of person or birth. 

The Hebrew had little time to repeat his resolve; 
the head chamberlain interrupted them to lead Hosea 
into the presence of the “ good god.” * 

The sovereign awaited Hosea in the smaller audi- 
ence-room adjoining the royal apartments. 

It was a stately chamber, and to-day looked more 
spacious than when, as of yore, it was filled with obse- 
quious throngs. Only a few courtiers and priests, 
with some of the queen’s ladies-in-waiting, all clad in 
deep mourning, stood in groups near the throne. Op- 
posite to Pharaoh, squatting in a circle on the floor, 
were the king’s councillors and interpreters, each 
adorned with an ostrich plume. 

All wore tokens of mourning, and the monotonous, 
piteous plaint of the wailing women, which ever and 
anon rose into a loud, shrill, tremulous shriek, echoed 
through the silent rooms within to this hall, announcing 
that death had claimed a victim even in the royal 
dwelling. 

The king and queen sat on a gold and ivory couch, 
heavily draped with black. Instead of their usual 
splendid attire, both wore dark robes, and the royal 
consort and mother, who mourned her first-born son, 
leaned motionless, with drooping head, against her 
kingly husband’s shoulder. 

Pharaoh, too, gazed fixedly into space, as though 
lost in a dream. The sceptre had slipped from his 
hand and lay in his lap. 

* Euphemistic name of the Pharaohs. 


JOSHUA. 


75 


The queen had been torn away from the corpse of 
her son, which was now delivered to the embalmers, 
and it was not until she reached the entrance of the 
audience-chamber that she had succeeded in checking 
her tears. She had no thought of resistance ; the inexor- 
able ceremonial of court etiquette required the queen 
to be present at any audience of importance. To-day 
she would gladly have shunned the task, but Pharaoh 
had commanded her presence, and she knew and 
approved the course to be pursued ; for she was full of 
dread of the power of the Hebrew Mesu, called by his 
own people Moses, and of his God, who had brought 
such terrible woe on the Egyptians. She had other 
children to lose, and she had known Mesu from 
her childhood, and was well aware how highly the 
great Rameses, her husband’s father and predecessor, 
had prized the wisdom of this stranger who had been 
reared with his own sons. 

Ah, if it were only possible to conciliate this man. 
But Mesu had departed with the Israelites, and she 
knew his iron will and had learned that the terrible 
prophet was armed, not alone against Pharaoh’s threats, 
but also against her own fervent entreaties. 

She was now expecting Hosea. He, the son of 
Nun, the foremost man of all the Hebrews in Tanis, 
would succeed, if any one could, in carrying out the 
plan which she and her royal husband deemed best for 
all parties, — a plan supported also by Rui, the hoary 
high-priest and first prophet of Amon, the head of the 
whole Egyptian priesthood, who held the offices of 
chief judge, chief treasurer, and viceroy of the kingdom, 
and had followed the court from Thebes to Tanis. 

Ere going to the audience hall, she had been twin- 


7 6 


JOSHUA. 


ing wreaths for her loved dead and the lotus flowers, 
larkspurs, mallow and willow-leaves, from which she was 
to weave them, had been brought there by her desire. 
They were lying on a small table and in her lap ; but 
she felt paralyzed, and the hand she stretched toward 
them refused to obey her will. 

Rui, the first prophet of Amon, an aged man long 
past his ninetieth birthday, squatted on a mat at Pha- 
raoh’s left hand. A pair of bright eyes, shaded by 
bushy white brows, glittered in his brown face — 
seamed and wrinkled like the bark of a gnarled oak — 
like gay flowers amid withered leaves, forming a strange 
contrast to his lean, bowed, and shrivelled form. 

The old man had long since resigned the manage- 
ment of business affairs to the second prophet, Bai, but 
he held firmly to his honors, his seat at Pharaoh’s side, 
and his place in the council, where, though he said 
little, his opinion was more frequently followed than 
that of the eloquent, ardent second prophet, who was 
many years his junior. 

The old man had not quitted Pharaoh’s side since 
the plague entered the palace, yet to-day he felt more 
vigorous than usual ; the hot desert wind, which weak- 
ened others, refreshed him. He was constantly shivering, 
despite the panther-skin which hung over his back and 
shoulders, and the heat of the day warmed his chilly 
old blood. 

Moses, the Hebrew, had been his pupil, and never 
had he instructed a nobler nature, a youth more richly 
endowed with all the gifts of intellect. He had initi- 
ated the -Israelite into all the highest mysteries, antici- 
pating the greatest results for Egypt and the priest- 
hood, and when the Hebrew one day slew an overseer 


JOSHUA. 


77 


who had mercilessly beaten one of his race, and then 
fled into the desert, Rui had secretly mourned the evil 
deed as if his own son had committed it and must 
suffer the consequences. His intercession had secured 
Mesu’s pardon ; but when the latter returned to Egypt 
and the change had occurred which other priests termed 
his “apostasy,” the old man had grieved even more 
keenly than over his flight. Had he, Rui, been 
younger, he would have hated the man who had thus 
robbed him of his fairest hopes ; but the aged priest, 
who read men’s hearts like an open book and could 
judge the souls of his fellow-mortals with the calm 
impartiality of an unclouded mind, confessed that he 
had been to blame in failing to foresee his pupil’s 
change of thought. 

Education and precept had made Mesu an Egyp- 
tian priest according to his own heart and that of the 
divinity ; but after having once raised his hand in the 
defence of his own people against those to whom he 
had been bound only by human craft and human will, 
he was lost to the Egyptians and became once more a 
true son of his race. And where this man of the 
strong will and lofty soul led the way, others could not 
fail to follow. 

Rui knew likewise full well what the renegade 
meant to give to his race ; he had confessed it himself to 
the priest — faith in the one God. Mesu had rejected 
the accusation of perjury, declaring that he would 
never betray the mysteries to the Hebrews, his sole de- 
sire was to lead them back to the God whom they 
had worshipped ere Joseph and his family came to 
Egypt. True, the “ One ” of the initiated resembled the 
God of the Hebrews in many things, but this very fact 


78 


JOSHUA. 


had soothed the old sage ; for experience had taught 
him that the masses are not content with a single in- 
visible God, an idea which many, even among the more 
advanced of his own pupils found difficult to compre- 
hend. The men and women of the lower classes 
needed visible symbols of every important thing whose 
influence they perceived in and around them, and the 
Egyptian religion supplied these images. What could 
an invisible creative power guiding the course of the 
universe be to a love-sick girl ? She sought the friendly 
Hathor, whose gentle hands held the cords that bound 
heart to heart, the beautiful mighty representative of 
her sex — to her she could trustingly pour forth all the 
sorrows that burdened her bosom. What was the 
petty grief of a mother who sought to snatch her darl- 
ing child from death, to the mighty and incomprehen- 
sible Deity who governed the entire universe ? But 
the good Isis, who herself had wept her eyes red in 
bitter anguish, could understand her woe. And how 
often in Egypt it was the wife who determined her 
husband’s relations to the gods ! 

Rui had frequently seen Hebrew men and women 
praying fervently in Egyptian temples. Even if Mesu 
should induce them to acknowledge his God, the 
experienced sage clearly foresaw that they would 
speedily turn from the invisible Spirit, who must ever 
remain aloof and incomprehensible, and return by hun- 
dreds to the gods they understood. 

Now Egypt was threatened with the loss of the 
laborers and builders she so greatly needed, but Rui 
believed that they might be won back. 

“When fair words will answer our purpose, put 
aside sword and bow,” he had replied to Bai, who ’ 


JOSHUA. 


79 


demanded that the fugitives should be pursued and 
slain. “We have already too many corpses in our 
country ; what we want is workers. Let us hold fast 
what we seem on the verge of losing.” 

These mild words were in full harmony with the 
mood of Pharaoh, who had had sufficient sorrow, and 
would have thought it wiser to venture unarmed into 
a lion’s cage than to again defy the wrath of the terri- 
ble Hebrew. 

So he had closed his ears to the exhortations of 
the second prophet, whose steadfast, energetic will 
usually exercised all the greater influence upon him on 
account of his own irresolution, and upheld old Rui’s 
suggestion that the warrior, Hosea, should be sent 
after his people to deal with them in Pharaoh’s name — 
a plan that soothed his mind and renewed his hopes. 

The second prophet, Bai, had finally assented to 
the plan ; for it afforded a new chance of undermining 
the throne he intended to overthrow. If the Hebrews 
were once more settled in the land, Prince Siptah, who 
regarded no punishment too severe for the race he 
hated, might perhaps seize the sceptre of the cowardly 
king Menephtah. 

But the fugitives must first be stopped, and Hosea 
was the right man to do this. But in Bai’s eyes no one 
would be more able to gain the confidence of an un- 
suspicious soldier than Pharaoh and his royal consort. 
The venerable high-priest Rui, though wholly unaware 
of the conspiracy, shared this opinion, and thus the 
sovereigns had been persuaded to interrupt the mourn- 
ing for the dead and speak in person to the Hebrew. 

Hosea had prostrated himself before the throne and, 
29 


8o 


JOSHUA. 


when he rose, the king’s weary face was bent toward 
him, sadly, it is true, yet graciously. 

According to custom, the hair and beard of the 
father who had lost his first-born son had been shaven. 
Formerly they had encircled his face in a frame of 
glossy black, but twenty years of anxious government 
had made them grey, and his figure, too, had lost its erect 
carriage and seemed bent and feeble, though he had 
scarcely passed his fifth decade. His regular features 
were still beautiful in their symmetry, and there was 
a touch of pathos in their mournful gentleness, so 
evidently incapable of any firm resolve, especially when 
a smile lent his mouth a bewitching charm. 

The languid indolence of his movements scarcely 
impaired the natural dignity of his presence, yet his 
musical voice was wont to have a feeble, beseeching 
tone. He was no born ruler; thirteen older brothers 
had died ere the throne of Pharaoh had become his 
heritage, and up to early manhood he had led a careless, 
joyous existence — as the handsomest youth in the whole 
land, the darling of women, the light-hearted favorite of 
fortune. Then he succeeded his father the great 
Rameses, but he had scarcely grasped the sceptre ere 
the Libyans, with numerous allies, rebelled against 
Egypt. The trained troops and their leaders, who had 
fought in his predecessor’s wars, gained him victory, but 
during the twenty years which had now passed since 
Rameses’ death, the soldiers had rarely had any rest. 
Insurrections constantly occurred, sometimes in the 
East, anon in the West and, instead of living in Thebes, 
where he had spent many years of happiness, and fol- 
lowing the bent of his inclination by enjoying in the 
splendid palace the blessing of peace and the society of 


JOSHUA. 


8l 


the famous scholars and poets who then made that city 
their home, he was compelled sometimes to lead his 
armies in the field, sometimes to live in Tanis, the 
capital of Lower Egypt, to settle the disturbances of 
the border land. 

This was the desire of the venerable Rui, and the 
king willingly followed his guidance. During the latter 
years of Raineses’ reign, the temple at Thebes, and with 
it the chief priest, had risen to power and wealth greater 
than that possessed by royalty itself, and Menephtah’s in- 
dolent nature was better suited to be a tool than a guid- 
ing hand, so long as he received all the external honors 
due to Pharaoh. These he guarded with a determina- 
tion which he never roused himself to display in 
matters of graver import. 

The condescending graciousness of Pharaoh’s re- 
ception awakened feelings of mingled pleasure and 
distrust in Hosea’s mind, but he summoned courage to 
frankly express his desire to be relieved from his office 
and the oath he had sworn to his sovereign. 

Pharaoh listened quietly. Not until Hosea con- 
fessed that he was induced to take this step by his 
father’s command did he beckon to the high-priest, who 
began in low, almost inaudible tones : 

“ The son who resigns great things to remain obedi- 
ent to his father will be the most loyal of the ‘ good 
god’s ’ servants. Go, obey the summons of Nun. The 
son of the sun, the Lord of Upper and Lower Egypt, 
sets you free ; but through me, the slave of his master, 
he imposes one condition.” 

“ What is that ?” asked Hosea. 

Pharaoh signed to Rui a second time and, as the 


82 


JOSHUA. 


monarch sank back upon his throne, the old man, fixing 
his keen eyes on Hosea, replied : 

“ The demand which the lord of both worlds makes 
upon you by my lips is easy to fulfil. You must return 
to be once more his servant and one of us, as soon as 
your people and their leader, who have brought such 
terrible woe upon this land, shall have clasped the 
divine hand which the son of the sun extends to them 
in reconciliation, and shall have returned to the 
beneficent shadow of his throne. He intends to attach 
them to his person and his realm by rich tokens of his 
favor, as soon as they return from the desert to which 
they have gone forth to sacrifice to their God. Un- 
derstand me fully! All the burdens which have 
oppressed the people of your race shall be removed. 
The ‘ great god ’ will secure to them, by a new law, privi- 
leges and great freedom, and whatever we promise shall 
be written down and witnessed on our part and yours 
as a new and valid covenant binding on our children 
and our children’s children. When such a compact 
has been made with an honest purpose on our part to 
keep it for all time, and your tribes have consented to 
accept it, will you promise that you will then be one of 
us again ?” 

“ Accept the office of mediator, Hosea,” the queen 
here interrupted in a low tone, with her sorrowful eyes 
fixed imploringly on Hosea’s face. “ I dread the fury of 
Mesu, and everything in our power shall be done to 
regain his old friendship. Mention my name and 
recall the time when he taught little Isisnefert the 
names of the plants she brought to him and explained 
to her and her sister their beneficial or their harmful 
qualities, during his visits to the queen, his second 


JOSHUA. 


83 


mother, in the women’s apartmeuts. The wounds he 
has dealt our hearts shall be pardoned and forgotten. 
Be our envoy. Hosea, do not deny us.” 

“ Such words from royal lips are a strict mandate,” 
replied the Hebrew. “ And yet they make the heart 
rejoice. I will accept the office of mediator.” 

The hoary high-priest nodded approvingly, ex- 
claiming : 

“ I hope a long period of blessing may arise from 
this brief hour. But note this. Where potions can aid, 
surgery must be shunned. Where a bridge spans the 
stream, beware of swimming through the whirlpool.” 

“Yes, by all means shun the whirlpool,” Pharaoh 
repeated, and the queen uttered the same words, then 
once more bent her eyes on the flowers in her lap. 

A council now began. 

Three private scribes took seats on the floor close by 
Rui, in order to catch his low tones, and the scribes 
and councillors in the circle before the throne seized 
their writing-materials and, holding the papyrus in their 
left hands, wrote with reed or brush ; for nothing which 
was debated and determined in Pharaoh’s presence was 
suffered to be left unrecorded. 

During the continuance of this debate no voice in 
the audience chamber was raised above a whisper ; the 
courtiers and guards stood motionless at their posts, 
and the royal pair gazed mutely into vacancy as though 
lost in reverie. 

Neither Pharaoh nor his queen could possibly have 
heard the muttered conversation between the men; 
yet the Egyptians, at the close of every sentence, 
glanced upward at the king as if to ensure his approba- 
tion. Hosea, to whom the custom was perfectly 


8 4 


JOSHUA. 


familiar, did the same and, like the rest, lowered his 
tones. Whenever the voices of Bai or of the chief of 
the scribes waxed somewhat louder, Pharaoh raised his 
head and repeated the words of Rui : “ Where a 

bridge spans the stream, beware of swimming through 
the whirlpool ; ” for this saying precisely expressed his 
own desires and those of the queen. No strife! Let 
us live at peace with the Hebrews, and escape from the 
anger of their awful leader and his God, without losing 
the thousands of industrious workers in the departed 
tribes. 

So the discussion went on, and when the murmuring 
of the debaters and the scratching of the scribes’ reeds 
had continued at least an hour the queen remained in 
the same position; but Pharaoh began to move and 
lift up his voice, fearing that the second prophet, who 
had detested the man whose benedictions he had 
implored and whose enmity seemed so terrible, was im- 
posing on the mediator requirements impossible to 
fulfil. 

Yet he said nothing save to repeat the warning about 
the bridge, but his questioning look caused the chief 
of the scribes to soothe him with the assurance that 
everything was progressing as well as possible. Hosea 
had only requested that, in future, the overseers of the 
workmen should not be of Libyan birth, but Hebrews 
themselves, chosen by the elders of their tribes with 
the approval of the Egyptian government. 

Pharaoh cast a glance of imploring anxiety at Bai, 
the second prophet, and the other councillors ; but 
the former shrugged his shoulders deprecatingly and, 
pretending to yield his own opinion to the divine 
wisdom of Pharaoh, acceded to Hosea’s request. 


JOSHUA. 85 

The divinity on the throne of the world accepted, 
with a grateful bend of the head, this concession from 
a man whose wishes had so often opposed his own, and 
after the “ repeater ” or herald had read aloud all the 
separate conditions of the agreement, Hosea was forced 
to make a solemn vow to return in any case to Tanis, 
and report to the Sublime Porte how his people had 
received the king’s proposals. 

But the wary chief, versed in the wiles and tricks 
with which the government was but too well sup- 
plied, uttered the vow with great reluctance, and 
only after he had received a written assurance that, 
whatever might be the result of the negotiations, 
his liberty should not be restricted in any respect, 
after he had proved that he had used his utmost 
efforts to induce the leader of the Hebrews to accept 
the compact. 

At last Pharaoh extended his hand for the warrior 
to kiss, and when the latter had also pressed his lips to 
the edge of the queen’s garments, Rui signed to the 
head-chamberlain, who made obeisance to Pharaoh, 
and the sovereign knew that the hour had come when 
he might retire. He did so gladly and with a lighter 
heart ; for he believed that he had done his best to 
secure his own welfare and that of his people. 

A sunny expression flitted across his handsome, 
worn features, and when the queen also rose and saw his 
smile of satisfaction it was reflected on her face. Pha- 
raoh uttered a sigh of relief as he crossed the threshold 
of the audience chamber and, accosting his wife, said : 

“ If Hosea wins his cause, we shall cross the bridge 
safely.” 


86 


JOSHUA. 


“And need not swim through the whirlpool,” the 
queen answered in the same tone. 

“ And if the chief succeeds in soothing Mesu, and 
induces the Hebrews to stay in the land,” Pharaoh 
added : 

“ Then you will enrol this Hosea — he looks noble 
and upright — among the kindred of the king,” Isisne- 
fert interrupted 

But upon this Pharaoh drew up his languid, droop- 
ing figure, exclaiming eagerly : 

“How can I? A Hebrew! Were we to admit 
him among the ‘ friends ’ or ‘ fan-bearers ’ it would be 
the highest favor we could bestow! It is no easy 
matter in such a case to choose between too great or 
too small a recompense.” 

The farther the royal pair advanced toward the in- 
terior of the palace, the louder rose the wailing voices 
of the mourning women. Tears once more filled the 
eyes of the queen ; but Pharaoh continued to ponder 
over what office at court he could bestow on Hosea, 
should his mission prove successful. 


CHAPTER X. 

Hosea was forced to hurry in order to overtake the 
tribes in time; for the farther they proceeded, the 
harder it would be to induce Moses and the leaders of 
the people to return and accept the treaty. 

The events which had befallen him that morning 
seemed so strange that he regarded them as a dispensa- 
tion of the God whom he had found again ; he recol- 


JOSHUA. 


87 


lected, too, that the name “ Joshua ” “ he who helps 
Jehovah ” had been received through Miriam’s message. 
He would gladly bear it; for though it was no easy 
matter to resign the name for which he had won renown, 
still many of his comrades had done likewise. His new 
one was attesting its truth grandly; never had God’s 
help been more manifest to him than this morning. He 
had entered Pharaoh’s palace expecting to be imprisoned 
or delivered over to the executioner, as soon as he in- 
sisted upon following his people, and how speedily the 
bonds that held him in the Egyptian army had been 
sundered. And he had been appointed to discharge a 
task which seemed in his eyes so grand, so lofty, that he 
was on the point of believing that the God of his 
fathers had summoned him to perform it. 

He loved Egypt. It was a fair country. Where 
could his people find a more delightful home ? It 
was only the circumstances under which they had 
lived there which had been intolerable. Happier times 
were now in store. The tribes were given the choice 
between returning to Goshen, or settling on the lake 
land west of the Nile, with whose fertility and ample 
supply of water he was well acquainted. No one 
would have a right to reduce them to bondage, and 
whoever gave his labor to the service of the state 
was to have for overseer no stern and cruel foreigner, 
but a man of his own blood. 

True, he knew that the Hebrews must remain 
under subjection to Pharaoh. But had not Joseph, 
Ephraim, and his sons, Hosea’s ancestors, been called 
his subjects and lived content to be numbered among 
the Egyptians. 

If the covenant was made, the elders of the tribes 


88 


JOSHUA. 


were to direct the private concerns of the people. 
Spite of Ba'i’s opposition, Moses had been named regent 
of the new territory, while he, Hosea, himself was to com- 
mand the soldiers who would defend the frontiers, and 
marshal fresh troops from the Israelite mercenaries, who 
had already borne themselves valiantly in many a fray. 
Ere he had quitted the palace, Bai had made various 
mysterious allusions, which though vague in purport, 
betrayed that the priest was cherishing important plans 
and, as soon as the guidance of the government passed 
from old Rui’s hands into his, a high position, perhaps 
the command of the whole army, now led by a Syrian 
named Aarsu, would be conferred on him, Hosea. 

But this prospect caused him more anxiety than 
pleasure, though great was his satisfaction at having 
gained the concession that every third year the eastern 
frontiers of the country should be thrown open to his 
people, that they might go to the desert and there 
offer sacrifices to their God. Moses had seemed to 
lay the utmost stress upon this privilege, and according 
to the existing law, no one was permitted to cross the 
narrow fortified frontier on the east without the per- 
mission of the government. Perhaps granting this 
desire of the mighty leader might win him to accept a 
compact so desirable for his nation. 

During these negotiations Hosea had again realized 
his estrangement from his people, he was not even 
aware ‘for what purpose the sacrifice in the desert was 
offered. He also frankly acknowledged to Pharaoh’s 
councillors that he knew neither the grievances nor the 
requirements of the tribes, a course he pursued to 
secure to the Hebrews the right of changing or re- 
vising in any respect the offers . he was to convey. 


JOSHUA. 89 

What better proposals could they or their leader 
desire ? 

The future was full of fresh hopes of happiness for 
his people and himself. If the compact was made, the 
time had arrived for him to establish a home of his own, 
and Miriam’s image again appeared in all its loftiness 
and beauty. The thought of gaining this splendid 
maiden was fairly intoxicating, and he wondered 
whether he was worthy of her, and if it would not be 
presumptuous to aspire to the hand of the divinely- 
inspired, majestic virgin and prophetess. 

He was experienced in the affairs of life and knew 
full well how little reliance could be placed upon the 
promises of the vacillating man, who found the sceptre 
too heavy for his feeble hand. But he had exercised 
caution and, if the elders of the people could but be 
won over, the agreement would be inscribed on metal 
tables, sentence by sentence, and hung in the temple at 
Thebes, with the signatures of Pharaoh and the envoys 
of the Hebrews, like every other binding agreement be- 
tween Egypt and a foreign nation. Such documents — 
he had learned this from the treaty of peace concluded 
with the Cheta — assured and lengthened the brief 
“ eternity ” of national covenants. He had certainly 
neglected no precaution to secure his people from 
treachery and perjury. Never had he felt more vigor- 
ous, more confident, more joyous than when he again 
entered Pharaoh’s chariot to take leave of his subor- 
dinates. Ba'i’s mysterious hints and suggestions troubled 
him very little; he was accustomed to leave future 
anxieties to be cared for in the future. But at the 
camp he encountered a grief which belonged to the 
present ; surprised, angry, and troubled, he learned that 


JOSHUA. 


9 ° 

Ephraim had secretly left the tent, telling no one 
whither he was going. A hurried investigation drew 
out the information that the youth had been seen on 
the road to Tanis, and Hosea hastily bade his trusty 
shield-bearer search the city for the youth and, if he 
found him, to order him to follow his uncle to Succoth. 

After the chief had said farewell to his men, he set 
off, attended only by his old groom He was pleased 
to have the adone * and subaltern officers who had been 
with him, the stem warriors, with whom he had shared 
everything in war and peace, in want and privation, 
show so plainly the pain of parting. Tears streamed 
down the bronzed cheeks of many a man who had grown 
grey in warfare, as he clasped his hand for the last time. 
Many a bearded lip was pressed to the hem of his robe, 
to his feet, and to the sleek skin of the noble Libyan 
steed which, pressing forward with arching neck only to 
be curbed by its rider’s strength, bore him through the 
ranks. For the first time since his mother’s death his 
own eyes grew dim, as shouts of farewell rang warmly 
and loudly from the manly breasts of his soldiers. 

Never before had he so deeply realized how firmly 
he was bound to these men, and how* he loved his 
noble profession. 

Yet the duty he was now fulfilling was also grca 4 - 
and glorious, and the God who had absolved him 
from his oath and smoothed the way for him to obey 
his father’s commands as a true and upright man, would 
perhaps bring him back to his comrades in arms, whose 
cordial farewell he still fancied he heard long after he 
was out of reach of their voices. 


Corresponding to the rank of adjutant. 


JOSHUA. 


9 1 


The greatness of the work assigned to him, the 
enthusiasm of a man who devotes himself with devout 
earnestness to the performance of a difficult task, the 
rapturous joy of the lover, who with well-founded hopes 
of the fulfilment of the purest and fairest desires of 
his heart, hastens to meet the woman of his choice, first 
dawned upon him when he had left the city behind and 
was dashing at a rapid trot toward the south-east 
across the flat, well-watered plain with its wealth of 
palm-groves. 

While forcing his steed to a slower pace as he 
passed through the streets of the capital, and the re- 
gion near the harbor, his mind was so engrossed by his 
recent experiences and his anxiety concerning the 
runaway youth, that he paid little attention to the throng 
of vessels lying at anchor, the motley crowd of ship 
owners, traders, sailors, and laborers, representatives of 
all the nations of Africa and Asia, who sought a liveli- 
hood here, and the officials, soldiers, and petitioners, 
who had followed Pharaoh from Thebes to the city of 
Rameses. 

He had even failed to see two men of high rank, 
though one, Homecht, the captain of the archers, had 
waved his hand to him. 

They had retired into the deep gateway formed by 
the pylons at the entrance of the temple of Seth, to 
escape the clouds of dust which the desert wind was 
still blowing along the road. 

While Homecht was vainly trying to arrest the 
horseman’s attention, his companion, Bai, the second 
prophet of Amon, whispered : “ Let him go ! He will 
learn where his nephew is soon enough.” 

“As you desire,” replied the soldier. Thet he 


9 2 


JOSHUA. 


eagerly continued the story he had just begun. “ When 
they brought the lad in, he looked like a piece of clay in 
the potter’s workshop.” 

“No wonder,” replied the priest ; “ he had lain long 
enough in the road in the dust of Typhon. But what 
was your steward seeking among the soldiers ?” 

“We had heard from my adon, whom I sent to the 
camp last evening, that the poor youth was attacked by 
a severe fever, so Kasana put up some wine and her 
nurse’s balsam, and dispatched the old creature with 
them to the camp.” 

“ To the youth or to Hosea ?” asked the prophet 
with a mischievous smile. 

“To the sufferer,” replied Hornecht positively, a 
frown darkening his brow. But, restraining himself, he 
added as if apologizing : “ Her heart is as soft as wax, 

and the Hebrew youth — you saw him yesterday. ...” 

“ Is a splendid lad, just fitted to win a woman’s 
heart !” replied the priest laughing. “ Besides, who- 
ever shows kindness to the nephew does not harm the 
uncle.” 

“ That was not in her mind,” replied Hornecht 
bluntly. “ But the invisible God of the Hebrews is not 
less watchful of his children than the Immortals whom 
you serve; for he led Hotepu to the youth just as he 
was at the point of death. The dreamer would un- 
doubtedly have ridden past him; for the dust had 
already . . . .” 

“ Transformed him into a bit of potter’s clay. But 
then ?” 

“ Then the old man suddenly saw a glint of gold in 
the dusty heap.” 

“ And the stiffest neck will stoop for that.” 


JOSHUA. 


93 


“Quite true. My Hotepu did so, and the broad 
gold circlet the lad wore flashed in the sunlight and 
preserved his life a second time.” 

“ The luckiest thing is that we have the lad in our 
possession.” 

“Yes, I was rejoiced to have him open his eyes 
once more. Then his recovery grew more and more 
rapid ; the doctor says he is like a kitten, and all these 
mishaps will not cost him his life. But he is in a 
violent fever, and in his delirium says all sorts of sense- 
less things, which even my daughter’s nurse, a native of 
Ascalon, cannot clearly comprehend. Only she thought 
she caught Kasana’s name.” 

“ So it is once more a woman who is the source of 
the trouble.” 

“ Stop these jests, holy father,” replied Hornecht, 
biting his lips. “ A modest widow, and that boy with 
the down still on his lips.” 

“ At his age,” replied the unabashed priest, “ full- 
blown roses have a stronger attraction for young beetles 
than do buds ; and in this instance,” he added more 
gravely, “ it is a most fortunate accident. We have 
Hosea’s nephew in the snare, and it will be your part 
not to let him escape.” 

“ Do you mean that we are to deprive him of his 
liberty ?” cried the w r arrior. 

“ Even so.” 

“Yet you value his uncle?” 

“ Certainly. But the state has a higher claim.” 

“ This boy. ...” 

“ Is a desirable hostage. Hosea’s sword was an ex- 
tremely useful tool to us ; but if the hand that guides it 


94 


JOSHUA. 


is directed by the man whose power over greater 
things we know . . . .” 

“ You mean the Hebrew, Mesu ?” 

“ Then Hosea will deal us wounds as deep as those 
he erst inflicted on our foes.” 

“Yet I have heard you say more than once that he 
was incapable of perjury.” 

“ And so I say still, he has given wonderful proof 
of it to-day. Merely for the sake of being released 
from his oath, he thrust his head into the crocodile’s 
jaws. But though the son of Nun is a lion, he will find 
his master in Mesu. That man is the mortal foe of the 
Egyptians, the bare thought of him stirs my gall.” 

“ The cries of the wailing women behind this door 
admonish us loudly enough to hate him.” 

“Yet the weakling on the throne has forgotten 
vengeance, and is now sending Hosea on an errand of 
reconciliation.” 

“ With your sanction, I think ?” 

“ Ay,” replied the priest with a mocking smile. 
“ We send him to build a bridge ! Oh, this bridge ! A 
grey-beard’s withered brain recommends it to be thrown 
across the stream, and the idea just suits this pitiful 
son of a great father, who would certainly never have 
shunned swimming through the wildest whirlpool, 
especially when revenge was to be sought. Let Hosea 
essay the bridge ! If it leads him back across the 
stream to us, I will offer him a right warm and cordial 
welcome ; but as soon as this one man stands on our 
shores, may its supports sink under the leaders of his 
people ; we, the only brave souls in Egypt, must see to 
that.” 


JOSHUA. 


95 


“ So be it. Yet I fear we shall lose the chief, too, 
if justice overtakes his people.” 

“ It might almost seem so.” * 

“ You have greater wisdom than I.” 

“ Yet here you believe me in error.” 

“ How could I venture to . . . .” 

“ As a member of the military council you are en- 
titled to your own opinion, and I consider myself bound 
to show you the end of the path along which you have 
hitherto followed us with blindfold eyes. So listen, and 
judge accordingly when your turn comes to speak in 
the council. The chief-priest Rui is old .. .” 

“ And you now fill half his offices.” 

“ Would that fie might soon be relieved of the last 
half of his burden. Not on my own account. I love 
strife, but for the welfare of our native land. It is a 
deep-seated feeling of our natures to regard the utter- 
ances and mandates of age as wisdom, so there are few 
among the councillors who do not follow the old man’s 
opinions ; yet his policy limps on crutches, like himself. 
All good projects are swamped under his weak, faint- 
hearted guidance.” 

“That- is the very reason my vote is at your dis- 
posal,” cried the warrior. “ That is why I am ready to 
use all my might to hurl this sleeper from the throne 
and get rid of his foolish advisers.” 

The prophet laid his finger on his lips to warn his 
companion to be more cautious, drew nearer to him, 
pointed to his litter, and said in a low, hurried tone : 

“I am expected at the Sublime Porte, so listen. If 
Hosea’s mission is successful his people will return — 
the guilty with the innocent— and the latter will 
suffer. Among the former we can include the whole of 
30 


9 6 


JOSHUA. 


Hosea’s tribe, who call themselves the sons of Ephraim, 
from old Nun down to the youth in your dwelling.” 

“We may spare them ; but Mesu, too, is a Hebrew, 
and what we do to him. . . 

“ Will not occur in the public street, and it is child’s 
play to sow enmity between two men who desire to rule 
in the same sphere. I will make sure that Hosea shall 
shut his eyes to the other’s death ; but Pharaoh, whether 
his name is Meneptah or ” — he lowered his voice — 
“ Siptah, must then raise him to so great a height — 
and he merits it — that his giddy eyes will never discern 
aught we desire to conceal. There is one dish that 
never palls on any man who has once tasted it.” 

“ And what is that ?” 

“ Power, Homecht — mighty power ! As ruler of a 
whole province, commander of all the mercenaries in 
Aarsu’s stead, he will take care not to break with us. 
I know him. If I can succeed in making him believe 
Mesu has wronged him — and the imperious man will 
afford some pretext for it — and can bring him to 
the conviction that the law directs the punishment 
we mete out to the sorcerer and the worst of his 
adherents, he will not only assent but approve it.” 

“ And if he fails in his mission ?” 

“ He will return at any rate ; for he would not be 
false to his oath. But if Mesu, from whom we may 
expect anything, should detain him by force, the boy 
will be of service to us ; for Hosea loves him, his people 
value his life, and he belongs to one of their noblest 
tribes. In any case Pharaoh must threaten the lad ; 
we will guard him, and that will unite his uncle to us 
by fresh ties and lead him to join those who are angry 
with the king.” 


JOSHUA. 


97 


“ Excellent !” 

“ The surest way to attain our object will be by 
forging still another chain. In short — now I beg you 
to be quiet, your temper is far too hot for your grey 
hairs — in short, our Hebrew brother-in-arms, the 
saviour of my life, the ablest man in the army, who is 
certain to win the highest place, must be your son-in- 
law. Kasana’s heart is his — my wife has told me so.” 

Hornecht frowned again, and struggled painfully to 
control his anger. He perceived that he must over- 
come his objection to giving his daughter to the man 
whose birth he scorned, much as he liked and esteemed 
his character. He could not refrain from uttering an 
oath under his breath, but his answer to the prophet 
was more calm and sensible than the latter had an- 
ticipated. If Kasana was so possessed by demons that 
this stranger infatuated her, let her have her will. But 
Hosea had not yet sued for her. 

“ By the red god Seth, and his seventy companions,” 
he added wrathfully, “ neither you, nor any one shall 
induce me to offer my daughter, who has twenty suitors, 
to a man who terms himself our friend, yet finds no 
leisure to greet us in our own house! To keep fast 
hold of the lad is another thing, I will see to that.” 


CHAPTER XI. 

The midnight heavens, decked with countless stars, 
spanned with their cloudless azure vault the flat plains 
of the eastern Delta and the city of Succoth, called by 


9 8 


JOSHUA. 


the Egyptians, from their sanctuary, the place of the 
god Turn, or Pithom. 

The March night was drawing toward its end, pal- 
lid mists floated over the canal, the work of Hebrew 
bondmen which, as far as the eye could reach, inter- 
sected the plain, watering the fields and pastures along 
its course. 

Eastward and southward the sky was shrouded by 
dense veils of mist that rose from the large lakes and 
from the narrow estuaries that ran far up into the isth- 
mus. The hot and dusty desert wind, which the day 
before had swept over the parched grass and the tents 
and houses of Succoth, had subsided at nightfall ; and 
the cool atmosphere which in March, even in Egypt, 
precedes the approach of dawn, made itself felt. 

Whoever had formerly entered, between midnight 
and morning, the humble frontier hamlet with its shep- 
herd tents, wretched hovels of Nile mud, and by no 
means handsome farms and dwellings, would scarcely 
have recognized it now. Even the one noticeable build- 
ing in the place — besides the stately temple of the sun- 
god Turn — the large fortified store-house, presented at 
this hour an unfamiliar aspect. Its long white-washed 
walls, it is true, glimmered through the gloom as dis- 
tinctly as ever, but instead of towering — as usual at this 
time — mute and lifeless above the slumbering town — 
the most active bustle was going on within and around 
it. It was intended also as ^defense against the preda- 
tory hordes of the Shasu,* who Kad made a circuit around 
the fortified works on the isthmus, and its indestructible 
walls contained an Egyptian garrison, who could easily 

* Bedouins, who dwelt as nomads in the desert adjacent to Egypt, 
now regarded as part of Asia. 


JOSHUA. 


99 


defend it against a force greatly superior in num- 
bers. 

To-day it looked as if the sons of the desert had 
assailed it; but the men and women who were bustling 
about below and on the broad parapet of the gigantic 
building were Hebrews, not Shasu. With loud out- 
cries and gesticulations of delight they were seizing 
the thousands of measures of wheat, barley, rye, and 
durra, the stores of pulse, dates, and onions they found 
in the well-filled granaries, and even before sunset had 
begun to empty the store-rooms and put their contents 
into sacks, pails, and skins, trays, jugs, and aprons, 
which were let down by ropes or carried to the ground 
on ladders. 

The better classes took no share in this work, but 
among the busy throng, spite of the lateness of the hour, 
were children of all ages, carrying away in pots, jugs, 
and dishes — borrowed from their mothers’ cooking 
utensils — as much as they could. 

Above, beside the unroofed openings of the store- 
rooms, into which the stars were shining, and also at 
the foot of the ladders, women held torches or lanterns 
to light the others at their toil. 

Pans of blazing pitch were set in front of the strong 
locked doors of the real fortress, and in their light 
armed shepherds were pacing to and fro. When heavy 
stones or kicks belabored the brazen-bound door from 
within, and threats were uttered in the Egyptian tongue, 
the Hebrews outside did not fail to retort in words of 
mockery and scorn. 

On the day of the harvest festival, during the first 
evening watch, runners arrived at Succoth and an- 
nounced to the Israelites, whose numbers were twenty- 


J oo 


JOSHUA. 


fold greater than those of the Egyptians, that they had 
quitted Tanis in the morning and the tribes intended to 
leave at night ; their kindred in Succoth must be ready to 
go forth with them. There was great rejoicing among the 
Hebrews, who like those of their blood in the city of 
Rameses, had assembled in every house at a festive 
repast on the night of the new moon after the vernal 
equinox when the harvest festival usually began. The 
heads of the tribes had informed them that the day of 
liberation had arrived, and the Lord would lead them 
into the Promised Land. 

Here, too, as in Tanis, many had been faint-hearted 
and rebellious, and others had endeavored to separate 
their lot from the rest and remain behind ; but here, 
too, they were carried away by the majority. Eleasar, 
the son of Aaron, and the distinguished heads of the 
tribe of Judah, Hur and Naashon, had addressed the 
multitude, as Aaron and Nun had done in the city of 
Rameses. But Miriam, the virgin, the sister of Moses, 
had gone from house to house, everywhere awakening 
the fire of enthusiasm in men’s hearts, and telling the 
women that the morrow’s sun would usher in for them 
and their children a new day of happiness, prosperity, 
and freedom. 

Few had been deaf to the appeals of the prophetess; 
there was an air of majesty, which compelled obedi- 
ence, in the bearing of this maiden, whose large black 
eyes, surmounted by heavy dark eye-brows, which met 
in the middle, pierced the hearts of those on whom her 
gaze was bent and seemed to threaten the rebellious 
with their gloomy radiance. 

The members of every household went to rest after 
the festival with hearts uplifted and full of hope. But 


JOSHUA. 


IOI 


what a change had passed over them during the second 
day, the night that followed it, and the next morning ! 
It seemed as though the desert wind had buried all 
their courage and confidence in the dust it swept before 
it. The dread of going forth to face an unknown 
future had stolen into every heart, and many a man 
who had waved his staff full of trust and joyful enter- 
prise was now held, as if with clamps and fetters, to his 
well-tilled garden, the home of his ancestors, and the 
harvest in the fields, which had just been half gathered. 

The Egyptian garrison in the fortified store-house 
had not failed to notice that the Hebrews were under 
some special excitement, but they supposed it due to 
the harvest festival. The commander of the garrison 
had learned that Moses desired to lead his people into 
the wilderness to offer sacrifices to their God, and had 
asked for a reinforcement. But he knew nothing 
more; for until the morning when the desert wind 
blew, no Hebrew had disclosed the plans of his kin- 
dred. But the more sorely the heat of the day op- 
pressed them, the greater became the dread of the 
faint-hearted of the pilgrimage through the hot, dusty, 
waterless desert. The terrible day had given them a 
foretaste of what was impending and when, toward 
noon, the dust grew thicker, the air more and more 
oppressive, a Hebrew trader, from whom the Egyptian 
soldiers purchased goods, stole into the store-house to 
ask the commander to prevent his people from rushing 
to their doom. 

Even among the leaders the voices of malcontents 
had grown loud. Asaija and Michael, with their sons, 
who grudged the power of Moses and Aaron, had even 
gone from one to another to try to persuade them, ere 


102 


JOSHUA. 


departing, to summon the elders again and charge them 
to enter into fresh negotiations with the Egyptians. 

While these malcontents were successfully gathering 
adherents, and the traitor had sought the commander 
of the Egyptian garrison, two more messengers arrived 
with tidings that the fugitives would arrive in Succoth 
between midnight and morning. 

Breathless, speechless, dripping with perspiration, 
and with bleeding lips, the elder messenger sank on the 
threshold of Amminadab’s house, now the home of 
Miriam also. Both the exhausted men were refreshed 
with wine and food, ere the least wearied was fully 
capable of speech. Then, in a hoarse voice, but from a 
heart overflowing with gratitude and ardent enthusiasm, 
he reported the scenes which had occurred at the ex- 
odus, and how the God of their fathers had filled every 
heart with His spirit, and instilled new faith into the 
souls of the cowards. 

Miriam had listened to this story with sparkling 
eyes ; at its close she flung her veil over her head and 
bade the servants of the household, who had assembled 
around the messengers, to summon the whole Hebrew 
people under the sycamore, whose broad summit, the 
growth of a thousand years, protected a wide space of 
earth from the scorching sunbeams. 

The desert wind was still blowing, but the glad news 
seemed to have destroyed the baneful power it exerted 
on man, and when many hundreds of people had 
flocked together under the sycamore, Miriam had 
given her hand to Eleasar, the son of her brother 
Aaron, sprung upon the bench which rested against the 
huge hollow trunk of the tree, raised her hands and 
eyes toward heaven in an ecstasy, and began in a loud 


JOSHUA. 


IO3 

voice to address a prayer to the Lord, as if she beheld 
him with her earthly vision. 

Then she permitted the messenger to speak, and 
when the latter again described the events which had 
occurred in the . city of Rameses, and then announced 
that the fugitives from Tanis would arrive in a few 
hours, loud shouts of joy burst front the throng. Eleasar, 
the son of Aaron, proclaimed with glowing enthusiasm 
what the Lord had done for his people and had 
promised to them, their children, and children’s 
children. 

Each word from the lips of the inspired speaker fell 
upon the hearts of the Hebrews like the fresh dew of 
morning on the parched grass. The trusting hearers 
pressed around him and Miriam with shouts of joy, and 
the drooping courage of the timorous appeared to put 
forth new wings. Asarja, Michael, and their followers 
no longer murmured, nay, most of them had been in- 
fected by the general enthusiasm, and when a Hebrew 
mercenary stole out from the garrison of the store-house 
and disclosed what had been betrayed to his command- 
er, Eleasar, Naashon, Hur, and others took counsel 
together, gathered all the shepherds around them, and 
with glowing words urged them to show in this hour 
that they were men indeed and did not fear, with their 
God’s mighty aid, to fight for their people and their 
liberty. 

There was no lack of axes, clubs, sickles, brazen 
spears, heavy staves, slings, the shepherds’ weapons of 
defence against the wild beasts of the desert, or bows 
and arrows, and as soon as a goodly number of strong 
men had joined him, Hur fell upon the Egyptian over- 
seers who were watching the labor of several hundred 


io4 


JOSHUA. 


Hebrew slaves. Shouting : “ They are coming ! Down 
with the oppressors ! The Lord our God is our leader !” 
they rushed upon the Lybian warders, put them to rout, 
and released their fellows who were digging the earth, 
and laying bricks. As soon as the illustrious Naashon 
had pressed one of the oldest of these hapless men 
like a brother to his heart, the other liberated bonds- 
men had flung themselves into the shepherds’ arms 
and thus, still shouting : “ They are coming !” and 
“ The Lord, the God of our fathers, is our leader !” 
they pressed forward in an increasing multitude. When 
at last the little band of shepherds had grown to a body 
of several thousand men, Hur led them against the 
Egyptian soldiers, whom they largely outnumbered. 

The Egyptian bowmen had already discharged a 
shower of arrows, and stones hurled from the slings of 
the powerful shepherds had dealt fatal wounds in the 
front ranks of the foe, when the blast of a trumpet rang 
out, summoning the garrison of the fortress behind the 
sloping walls and solid door. The Hebrews seemed to 
the commander too superior a force to fight, but duty 
required him to hold the fort until the arrival of the re- 
inforcements he had requested. 

Hur, however, had not been satisfied with his first 
victory. Success had kindled the courage of his fol- 
lowers, as a sharp gust of wind fans a smouldering fire, 
and wherever an Egyptian showed himself on the 
battlements of the store-house, the round stone from a 
shepherd’s sling struck heavily upon him. At N aashon’s 
bidding ladders had been brought and, in the twinkling 
of an eye, hundreds climbed up the building from every 
direction and, after a short, bloodless struggle, the 


JOSHUA. 


10 5 

granaries fell into the Hebrews’ hands, though the 
Egyptians had succeeded in still retaining the fort. 

During the passage of these events the desert wind 
had subsided. Some of the liberated bondsmen, furious 
with rage, had heaped straw, wood, and faggots against 
the gate of the courtyard into which the Egyptians had 
been forced It would have been a light task for the 
assailants to destroy every one of their foes by fire ; but 
Hur, Naashon, and other prudent leaders had not suf- 
fered this to be done, lest the provisions still in the 
store-rooms should be burned. 

It had been no easy matter, in truth, to deter the 
younger of the ill-treated bondsmen from this act of 
vengeance ; but each one was a member of some 
family, and when Hur’s admonitions were supported by 
those of the fathers and mothers, they not only allowed 
themselves to be pacified, but aided the elders to dis- 
tribute the contents of the magazines among the heads 
of families and pack them on the beasts of burden and 
into the carts which were to accompany the fugitives. 

The work went forward amid the broad glare of 
torches, and became a new festival ; for neither Hur, 
Naashon, nor Eleasar could prevent the men and 
women from opening the wine-jars and skins. They 
succeeded, however, in preserving the lion’s share of 
the precious booty for a time of need, and thus averted 
much drunkenness, though the spirit of the grape-juice 
and the pleasure in obtaining so rich a prize doubtless 
enhanced the grateful excitement of the throng. When 
Eleasar finally went among them for the second time to 
tell them of the Promised Land, men and women lis- 
tened with uplifted hearts, and joined in the hymn 
Miriam began to sing. 


io6 


JOSHUA. 


Devout enthusiasm now took possession of every 
heart in Succoth, as it had done in Tanis during the 
hour that preceded the exodus, and when seventy He- 
brew men and women, who had concealed themselves 
in the temple of Turn, heard the jubilant hymn, they 
came forth into the open air, joined the others, and 
packed their possessions with as much glad hopefulness 
and warm trust in the God of their fathers, as if they 
had never shrunk from the departure. 

As the stars sank lower in the heavens, the joyous 
excitement increased. Men and women thronged the 
road to Tanis to meet their approaching kindred. 
Many a father led his boy by the hand, and many a 
mother carried her child in her arms ; the multitude 
drawing near contained numerous beloved relatives to 
be greeted, and the coming dawn could not fail to bring 
solemn hours of which one would wish no beloved heart 
to be deprived, and which would linger in the souls 
of the little ones till they themselves had children and 
grandchildren. 

No bed in tent, hovel, or house was occupied; for 
everywhere the final packing was going on. The 
throng of workers at the granaries had lessened ; most 
of them were now supplied with as much food as they 
could carry. 

Men and women equipped for travelling lay around 
fires hurriedly lighted in front of many tents and houses, 
and in the larger farms shepherds were driving the 
cattle and slaughtering the oxen and sheep which were 
unable to go with the people. The blows of axes and 
hammers and the creaking of saws were heard in front 
of many a house ; for litters to transport the sick and 
feeble must be made. Carts and wains were still to be 


JOSHUA. 


107 

loaded, and the heads of families had a hard task with 
the women; for a woman’s heart often clings more 
closely to things apparently worthless than to those of 
the greatest value. When the weaver Rebecca was 
more eager to find room in the cart for the rude cradle 
in which her darling had died, than for the beautiful 
ebony chest inlaid with ivory an Egyptian had pawned 
to her husband, who could blame her ? 

Light shone from all the window openings and tent 
doors, while from the roofs of the largest houses the 
blaze of torches or lanterns greeted the approaching 
Hebrews. 

At the banquet served on the night of the harvest 
festival, no table had lacked a roast lamb ; during this 
hour of waiting the housewife offered her family what 
she could. 

The narrow streets of the humble little town were 
full of active life, and never had the setting stars shone 
upon features so cheerful, eyes sparkling so brightly with 
enthusiasm, and faces so transfigured by hope and 
devout piety. 


CHAPTER XII. 

When morning dawned, all who had not gone down 
to meet the fugitives who were to make their first long 
halt here, had assembled on the roof of one of the 
largest houses in Succoth. 

One after another fleet-footed man or boy, hurrying 
in advance of the rest, had reached Succoth. Ammina- 


io8 


JOSHUA. 


dab’s house was the goal sought by the majority. It 
consisted of two buildings, one occupied by Naashon, 
the owner’s son, and his family, the other, a larger 
dwelling, which sheltered, besides the grey-haired owner 
and his wife, his son-in-law Aaron with his wife, children, 
and grand-children, and Miriam. The aged leader of 
his tribe, who had assigned the duties of his position to 
his son Naashon, extended his hand to every mes- 
senger and listened to his story with sparkling eyes, 
often dimmed by tears. He had induced his old wife 
to sit in the armchair in which she was to be carried 
after the people, that she might become accustomed to 
it, and for the same reason he now occupied his own. 

When the old dame heard the messengers boast 
that the fair future promised to the people was now 
close at hand, her eyes often sought her husband, and 
she exclaimed: “Yes, Moses!” for she held her son-in- 
law’s brother in high esteem, and rejoiced to see his 
prophecy fulfilled. The old people were proud of 
Aaron, too; but all their love was lavished upon 
Eleasar, their grandson, whom they beheld growing up 
into a second Moses. Miriam had been for some time 
a new and welcome member of the household. True, 
the warm-hearted old couple’s liking for the grave 
maiden had not increased to parental tenderness, and 
their daughter Elisheba, Aaron’s active wife, had no 
greater inclination to share the cares of the large family 
with the prophetess than her son Naashon’s spouse, 
who, moreover, dwelt with her immediate family under 
her own roof. Yet the old people owed Miriam a debt 
of gratitude for the care she bestowed upon their grand- 
daughter Milcah, the daughter of Aaron and Elisheba, 
whom a great misfortune had transformed from a 


JOSHUA. 


109 

merry-hearted child into a melancholy woman, whose 
heart seemed dead to every joy. 

A few days after her marriage to a beloved husband 
the latter, carried away by passion, had raised his hand 
against an Egyptian tax-gatherer, who, while Pharaoh 
was passing through Succoth toward the east, had at- 
tempted to drive off a herd of his finest cattle for “ the 
kitchen of the lord of both worlds.” For this act of 
self-defence the hapless man had been conveyed to the 
mines as a prisoner of state, and every one knew that 
the convicts there perished, soul and body, from tortur- 
ing labor far beyond their strength. Through the in- 
fluence of old Nun, Hosea’s father, the wife and 
relatives of the condemned man had been saved from 
sharing his punishment, as the law prescribed. But 
Milcah languished under the blow, and the only person 
who could rouse the pale, silent woman from brooding 
over her grief was Miriam. The desolate heart clung 
to the prophetess, and she accompanied her when she 
practised in the huts of the poor the medical skill she 
had learned and took them medicines and alms. 

The last messengers Amminadab and his wife re- 
ceived on the roof described the hardships of the 
journey and the misery they had witnessed in ‘dark 
hues; but if one, more tender-hearted than the rest, 
broke into lamentations over the sufferings endured by 
the women and children during the prevalence of the 
desert wind, and recalling the worst horrors impressed 
upon his memory, uttered mournful predictions for the 
future, the old man spoke cheering words, telling him 
of the omnipotence of God, and how custom would 
inure one to hardship. His wrinkled features ex- 
pressed firm confidence, while one could read in 


no 


JOSHUA. 


Miriam’s beautiful, yet stern countenance, little of the 
courageous hope, which youth is wont to possess in a 
far higher degree than age. 

During the arrival and departure of the messengers 
she did not quit the old couple’s side, leaving to her 
sister-in-law Elisheba and her servants the duty of 
offering refreshments to the wearied men. She herself 
listened intently, with panting breath, but what she 
heard seemed to awaken her anxiety ; for she knew that 
no one came to the house which sheltered Aaron save 
those who were adherents of her brothers, the leaders 
of the people. If such men’s blitheness was already 
waning, what must the outlook be to the lukewarm and 
refractory ! 

She rarely added a question of her own to those 
asked by the old man and, when she did so, the mes- 
sengers who heard her voice for the first time looked at 
her in surprise; though musical, the tones were un- 
usually deep. 

After several messengers, in reply to her inquiries, 
declared that Hosea, the son of Nun, had not come with 
the others, her head drooped and she asked nothing 
more, till pallid Milcah, who followed her everywhere, 
raised her dark eyes beseechingly and murmured the 
name of Reuben, her captive husband. The prophetess 
kissed the poor desolate wife’s forehead, glanced at her 
as if she had neglected her in some way, and then ques- 
tioned the messengers with urgent eagerness concern- 
ing their news of Reuben, who had been dragged to the 
mines. One only had learned from a released prisoner 
that Milcah’s husband was living in the copper mines 
of the province of Bech, in the neighborhood of Mt. 
Sinai, and Miriam seized upon these tidings to assure 


JOSHUA. 


Ill 


Milcah, with great vivacity and warmth, that if the 
tribes moved eastward they would surely pass the mines 
and release the Hebrews imprisoned there. 

These were welcome words, and Milcah, who nestled 
to her comforter’s breast, would gladly have heard 
more; but great restlessness had seized upon the 
people gazing into the distance from the roof of Am- 
minadab’s house ; a dense cloud of dust was approach- 
ing from the north, and soon after a strange murmur 
arose, then a loud uproar, and finally shouts and cries 
from thousands of voices, lowing, neighing, and bleat- 
ing, such as none of the listeners had ever heard, — 
and then on surged the many-limbed and many-voiced 
multitude, the endless stream of human beings and 
herds, which the astrologer’s grandson on the observa- 
tory of the temple at Tanis had mistaken for the ser- 
pent of the nether-world. 

Now, too, in the light of early dawn, it might easily 
have been imagined a host of bodiless spirits driven 
forth from the realms of the dead; for a whitish-grey 
column of dust extending to the blue vault of heaven 
moved before it, and the vast whole, with its many 
parts and voices, veiled by the clouds of sand, had 
the appearance 'of a single form. Often, however, a 
metal spear-head or a brazen kettle, smitten by a sun- 
beam, flashed brightly, and individual voices, shouting 
loudly, fell upon the ear. 

The foremost billows of the flood had now reached 
Amminadab’s house, before which pasture lands ex- 
tended as far as the eye could reach. 

Words of command rang on the air, the procession 
halted, dispersing as a mountain lake overflows in 
spring, sending rivulets and streams hither and thither; 

3i 


1 1 2 


JOSHUA. 


but the various small runlets speedily united, taking 
possession of broad patches of the dewy pastures, and 
wherever such portions of the torrent of human beings 
and animals rested, the shroud of dust which had con- 
cealed them disappeared. 

The road remained hidden by the cloud a long 
time, but on the meadows the morning sunlight shone 
upon men, women, and children, cattle and donkeys, 
sheep and goats, and soon tent after tent was pitched 
on the green sward in front of the dwellings of Am- 
minadab and Naashon, herds were surrounded by pens, 
stakes and posts were driven into the hard ground, 
awnings were stretched, cows were fastened to ropes, 
cattle and sheep were led to water, fires were lighted, 
and long lines of women, balancing jars on their heads, 
with their slender, beautifully curved arms, went to the 
well behind the old sycamore or to the side of the 
neighboring canal. 

This morning, as on every other working-day, a pied 
ox with a large hump was turning the wheel that raised 
the water. It watered the land, though the owner of the 
cattle intended to leave it on the morrow; but the 
slave who drove it had no thought beyond the present 
and, as no one forbade him, moistened as he was wont 
the grass for the foe into whose hands it was to fall. 

Hours elapsed ere the advancing multitude reached 
the camp, and Miriam who stood describing to Am- 
minadab, whose eyes were no longer keen enough to dis- 
cern distant objects, what was passing below, witnessed 
many an incident from which she would fain have 
♦ averted her gaze. 

She dared not frankly tell the old man what she 
beheld, it would have clouded his joyous hope. 


JOSHUA. 


IT 3 


Relying, with all the might of an inspired soul upon 
the God of her fathers and his omnipotence, she had 
but yesterday fully shared Amminadab’s confidence; 
but the Lord had bestowed upon her spirit the fatal gift 
of seeing things and hearing words incomprehensible to 
all other human beings. Usually she distinguished 
them in dreams, but they often came to her also in 
solitary hours, when she was deeply absorbed by 
thoughts of the past or the future. 

The words Ephraim had announced to Hosea in 
her name, as a message from the Most High, had been 
uttered by unseen lips while she was thinking under 
the sycamore of the exodus and the man whom she 
had loved from her childhood — and when that day, 
between midnight and morning, she again sat beneath 
the venerable tree and was overpowered by weariness, 
she had believed she heard the same voice. The 
words had vanished from her memory when she awoke, 
but she knew that their purport had been sorrowful 
and of ill omen. 

Spite of the vagueness of the monition, it disturbed 
her, and the outcries rising from the pastures certainly 
were not evoked by joy that the people had joined 
her brothers and the first goal of their wanderings 
had been successfully gained, as the old man at her 
side supposed ; no, they were the furious shouts of 
wrathful, undisciplined men, wrangling and fighting 
with fierce hostility on the meadow for a good place to 
pitch their tents or the best spot at the wells or on the 
brink of the canals to water their cattle. 

Wrath, disappointment, despair echoed in the 
shouts, and when her gaze sought the point whence 
they rose loudest, she saw the corpse of a woman borne 


JOSHUA. 


114 

on a piece of tent-cloth by railing bondmen and a pale, 
death-stricken infant held on the arm of a half naked, 
frantic man, its father, who shook his disengaged hand 
in menace toward the spot where she saw her brothers. 

The next moment she beheld a grey-haired old man, 
bowed by heavy toil, raise his fist against Moses. He 
would have struck him, had he not been dragged away 
by others. 

She could not bear to stay longer on the roof. Pale 
and panting for breath, she hurried to the camp. Milcah 
followed, and wherever they encountered people who 
lived in Succoth, they received respectful greetings. 

The new comers from Zoan, — as the Hebrews 
called Tanis, — Pha-kos, and Bubastis, whom they met 
on the way, did not know Miriam, yet the tall figure 
and stately dignity of the prophetess led them also to 
make way respectfully or pause to answer her ques- 
tions. 

The things she learned were evil and heart-rending; 
for joyously as the procession had marched forward on 
the first day, it dragged along sadly and hopelessly on 
the second. The desert wind had robbed many of the 
strong of their power of resistance and energy ; others, 
like the bondman’s wife and nursling, had been attacked 
by fever on the pilgrimage through the dust and the 
oppressive heat of the day, and they pointed out to her 
the procession which was approaching the burial-place 
of the Hebrews of Succoth. Those who were being 
conveyed to the bourn whence there is no return were 
not only women and children, or those who had been 
brought from their homes ill, that they might not be left 
behind, but also men who were in robust health the day 
before and had broken down under burdens too heavy 


JOSHUA. 


“5 

for their strength, or who had recklessly exposed them- 
selves, while working, to the beams of the noon-day 
sun. 

In one tent, where a young mother was shaking with 
the chill of a severe attack of fever, Miriam asked the 
pallid Milcah to bring her medicine chest, and the deso- 
late wife went on her errand with joyous alacrity. On 
the way she stopped many and timidly asked about her 
captive husband, but could obtain no news of him. 
Miriam, however, heard from Nun, Hosea’s father, that 
Eliab, the freedman whom he had left behind, had in- 
formed him that his son would be ready to join his 
people. She also learned that the wounded Ephraim 
had found shelter in his uncle’s tent. 

Was the lad’s illness serious, or what other cause 
detained Hosea in Tanis ? These questions filled 
Miriam’s heart with fresh anxiety, yet with rare energy 
she nevertheless lavished help and comfort wherever 
she went. 

Old Nun’s cordial greeting had cheered her, and 
a more vigorous, kind, and lovable old man could not 
be imagined. 

The mere sight of his venerable head, with its thick 
snow-white hair and beard, his regular features, and 
eyes sparkling with the fire of youth, was a pleasure to 
her, and as, in his vivacious, winning manner, he ex- 
pressed his joy at meeting her again, as he drew her to 
his heart and kissed her brow, after she had told him 
that, in the name of the Most High, she had called 
Hosea “Joshua ” and summoned him back to his people 
that he might command their forces, she felt as if she 
had found in him some compensation for her dead 
father’s loss, and devoted herself with fresh vigor to the 


n6 


JOSHUA. 


arduous duties which everywhere demanded her atten- 
tion. 

And it was no trivial matter for the high-souled 
maiden to devote herself, with sweet self-sacrifice, to 
those whose roughness and uncouth manners wounded 
her. The women, it is true, gladly accepted her aid, 
but the men, who had grown up under the rod of the 
overseer, knew neither reserve nor consideration. Their 
natures were as rude as their persons and when, as soon 
as they learned her name, they began to assail her with 
harsh reproaches, asserting that her brother had lured 
them from an endurable situation to plunge them into 
the most horrible position, when she heard imprecations 
and blasphemy, and saw the furious wrath of the black 
eyes that flashed in the brown faces framed by masses 
of tangled hair and beards, her heart failed her. 

But she succeeded in mastering dread and aversion, 
and though her heart throbbed violently, and she ex- 
pected to meet the worst, she reminded those who were 
repulsive to her and from whom her woman’s weakness 
urged her to flee, of the God of their fathers and His 
promises. 

She now thought she knew what the sorrowful warn- 
ing voice under the sycamore had portended, and 
beside the couch of the young dying mother she raised 
her hands and heart to Heaven and took an oath unto 
the Most High that she would exert every power of her 
being to battle against the faint-hearted lack of faith 
and rude obstinacy, which threatened to plunge the 
people into sore perils. Jehovah had promised them 
the fairest future and they must not be robbed of 
it by the short-sightedness and defiance of a few 
deluded individuals ; but God himself could scarcely 


JOSHUA. 


ll 7 

be wroth with those who, content if their bodily wants 
were satisfied, had unresistingly borne insults and 
blows like cattle. The multitude even now did not 
realize that they must pass through the darkness of 
misery to be worthy of the bright day that awaited 
them. 

The medicines administered by Miriam seemed to 
relieve the sufferer, and filled with fresh confidence, she 
left the tent to seek her brothers. 

There had been little change in the state of affairs 
in the camp, and she again beheld scenes from which 
she recoiled and which made her regret that the 
sensitive Milcah was her companion. 

Some rascally bondmen who had seized cattle and 
utensils belonging to others had been bound to a palm- 
tree, and the ravens that followed the procession, and 
had found ample sustenance on the way, now croaked 
greedily around the quickly established place of execu- 
tion. 

No one knew who had been judge or executioner of 
the sentence ; but those who took part in the swift 
retribution considered it well justified, and rejoiced in 
the deed. 

With rapid steps and averted head Miriam drew the 
trembling Milcah on and gave her to the care of her 
uncle Naashon to lead home. The latter had just 
parted from the man who with him ruled the sons of 
Judah as a prince of the tribe-— Hur, who at the head 
of the shepherds had won the first victory against the 
Egyptians, and who now led to the maiden with joyful 
pride a man and a boy, his son and grandson. Both 
had been in the service of the Egyptians, practising the 
trade of goldsmith and worker in metals for Pharaoh 


2 1 8 


JOSHUA. 


at Memphis. The former’s skill had won him the name 
of Uri, which in Egyptian means ‘ great and this arti- 
ficer’s son Bezaleel, Hur’s grandson, though scarcely 
beyond boyhood, was reputed to surpass his father in 
the gifts of genius. 

Hur gazed with justifiable pride at son and grand- 
son ; for though both had attained much consideration 
among the Egyptians they had followed their father’s 
messenger without demur, leaving behind them many 
who were dear to their hearts, and the property gained 
in Memphis, to join their wandering nation and share 
its uncertain destiny. 

Miriam greeted the new arrivals with the utmost 
warmth, and the men who, representing three genera- 
tions, stood before her, presented a picture on which the 
eyes of any well-disposed person could not fail to rest 
with pleasure. 

The grandfather was approaching his sixtieth year, 
and though many threads of silver mingled with his 
ebon-black hair, he held himself as erect as a youth, 
while his thin, sharply-cut features expressed the un- 
yielding determination, which explained his son’s and 
grandson’s prompt obedience to his will. 

Uri, too, was a stately man, and Bezaleel a youth 
who showed that he had industriously utilized his nine- 
teen years ahd already attained an independent position. 
His artist eye sparkled with special brilliancy, and after 
he and his father had taken leave of Miriam to greet 
Caleb, their grandfather and great-grandfather, she 
heartily congratulated the man who was one of her 
brother’s most loyal friends, upon such scions of his 
noble race. 

Hur seized her hand and, with a warmth of emotion 


JOSHUA. 


Ir 9 

gushing from a grateful heart that was by no means 
usual to the stern, imperious nature of this chief of an 
unruly shepherd tribe, exclaimed : 

“ Ay, they have remained good, true, and obedient. 
God has guarded them and prepared this day of happi- 
ness for me. Now it depends on you to make it the 
fairest of all festivals. You must have long perceived 
that my eyes have followed you and that you have been 
dear to my heart. To work for our people and their 
welfare is my highest aim as a man, yours as a woman, 
and that is a strong bond. But I desired to have a 
still firmer one unite us, and since your parents are 
dead, and I cannot go with the bridal dower to Amram, 
to buy you from him, I now bring my suit to you in per- 
son, high-souled maiden. But ere you say yes or no, 
you should learn that my son and grandson are ready 
to pay you the same honor as head of our household 
that they render me, and your brothers willingly per- 
mitted me to approach you as a suitor.” 

Miriam had listened to this offer in silent surprise. 
She had a high esteem and warm regard for the man 
who so fervently desired her love. Spite of his age, he 
stood before her in the full flush of manhood and 
stately dignity, and the beseeching expression of eyes 
whose glance was wont to be so imperious and stead- 
fast stirred the inmost depths of her soul. 

She, however, was waiting with ardent longing for 
another, so her sole answer was a troubled shake of the 
head. 

But this man of mature years, a prince of his tribe, 
who was accustomed to carry his plans persistently into 
execution, undeterred by her mute refusal, continued 
even more warmly than before. 


120 


JOSHUA. 


“ Do not destroy in one short moment the yearning 
repressed with so much difficulty for years ! Do you 
object to my age ?” 

Miriam shook her head a second time, but Hur went 

on : 

“ That was the source of my anxiety, though I can 
still vie with many a younger man in vigor. But, if you 
can overlook your lover’s grey hairs, perhaps you may 
be induced to weigh the words he now utters. Of the 
faith and devotion of my soul I will say nothing. No 
man of my years woos a woman, unless his heart’s 
strong impulse urges him on. But there is something 
else which, meseems, is of equal import. I said that I 
would lead you to my house. Yonder it stands, a build- 
ing firm and spacious enough ; but from to-morrow a 
tent will be our home, the camp our dwelling-place, 
and there will be wild work enough within its bounds. 
No one is secure, not even of life, least of all a woman, 
however strong she may be, who has made common 
cause with those against whom thousands murmur. 
Your parents are dead, your brothers might protect 
you, but should the people lay hands on them, the 
same stones on which you cross the stream would drag 
you down into the depths with them.” 

“ And were I your wife, you also,” replied Miriam, 
her thick eye-brows contracting in a heavy frown. 

“ I will take the risk,” Hur answered. “ The des- 
tinies of all are in God’s hands, my faith is as firm as 
yours, and behind me stands the tribe of Judah, who 
follow me and Naashon as the sheep follow the shep- 
herds. Old Nun and the Ephraimites are with us, and 
should matters come to the worst, it would mean 
perishing according to God’s will, or in faithful union, 


JOSHUA. 


I 2 I 


power, and prosperity, awaiting old age in the Promised 
Land.” 

Miriam fearlessly gazed full into his stern eyes, laid 
her hand on his arm, and answered: “ Those words are 
worthy of the man whom I have honored from child- 
hood, and who has reared such sons ; but I cannot be 
your wife.” 

“ You cannot ?” 

“ No, my lord, I cannot.” 

“ A hard sentence, but it must suffice,” replied the 
other, his head drooping in sorrow ; but Miriam ex- 
claimed : 

“ Nay, Hur, you have a right to ask the cause of my 
refusal, and because I honor you, I owe you the truth. 
Another man of our race reigns in my heart. He met 
me for the first time when I was still a child. Like 
your son and grandson, he has lived among the Egyp- 
tians, but the summons of our God and of his father 
reached him as did the message to your sons, and like 
Uri and Bezaleel, he showed himself obedient. If he 
still desires to wed me, I shall become his wife, if it is 
the will of the God whom I serve, and who shows me 
the favor of suffering me to hear his voice. But I 
shall think of you with gratitude forever.” 

Her large eyes had been glittering through tears as 
she uttered the words, and there was a tremor in the 
grey-haired lover’s voice as he asked in hesitating, em- 
barrassed tones: 

“And if the man for whom you are waiting — I do 
not ask his name — shuts his ears to the call that has 
reached him, if he declines to share the uncertain 
destiny of his people ?” 


122 


JOSHUA. 


- “ That will never happen !” Miriam interrupted, a 
chill creeping through her veins, but Hur exclaimed : 

“ There is no ‘ never,’ no ‘ surely,’ save with God. 
If, spite of your firm faith, the result should be different 
from your expectations, will you resign to the Lord the 
wish which began to stir in your heart, when you were 
still a foolish child ?” 

“ He who has guided me until now will show me 
the right way.” 

“Well then,” replied Hur, “put your trust in Him, 
and if the man of your choice is worthy of you, and 
becomes your lord, my soul will rejoice without envy 
when the Most High blesses your union. But if God 
wills otherwise, and you need a strong arm for your 
support, I am here. The tent and the heart of Hur 
will ever be open to you.” 

With these words he turned away; but Miriam 
gazed thoughtfully after him as long as the old chief’s 
stately figure was visible. 

At last, still pondering, she moved toward her 
host’s house, but at the road leading to Tanis, she 
paused and gazed northward. The dust had subsided, 
and she could see a long distance, but the one person 
whom it was to lead back to her and to his people did 
not appear. Sighing sadly, she moved onward with 
drooping head, and started violently when her brother 
Moses’ deep voice called to her from the old sycamore. 


JOSHUA. 


I23 


CHAPTER XIII. 

Aaron and Eleasar, with fiery eloquence, had re- 
minded the murmuring, disheartened people of the 
power and promises of their God. Whoever had 
stretched his limbs undisturbed to comfortable rest, 
whoever had been strengthened by food and drink 
regained the confidence that had been lost. The 
liberated bondmen were told of the hard labor and dis- 
honoring blows which they had escaped and admon- 
ished that they must recognize as God’s dispensation, 
among other things, that Pharaoh had not pursued 
them ; but the rich booty still found in the plundered 
storehouse had no small share in the revival of their 
drooping courage, and the bondmen and lepers — for 
many of the latter had accompanied them and rested out- 
side the camp — in short, all for whose support Pharaoh 
had provided, saw themselves safe for a long time from 
care and privation. Yet there was no lack of malcon- 
tents, and here and there, though no one knew who 
instigated the question, loud discussion arose whether 
it would not be more advisable to return to Pharaoh 
and rely on his favor. Whoever raised it, did the 
work secretly, and was often compelled to submit to 
sharp, threatening retorts. 

Miriam had talked with her brothers and shared 
the heavy anxieties that oppressed them. Why had 
the desert wind so speedily destroyed the courage of 
the people during their brief pilgrimage? How im- 
patient, how weak in faith, how rebellious they had 


124 


JOSHUA. 


showed themselves at the first obstacle they had en- 
countered, how uncontrollable they had been in follow- 
ing their fierce impulses. When summoned to prayer 
just before sunrise during their journey, some had 
turned toward the day-star rising in the east, others 
had taken out a small idol they had brought with them, 
and others still had uplifted their eyes to the Nile 
acacia, which in some provinces of Egypt was re- 
garded as a sacred tree. What did they know of the 
God who had commanded them to cast so much 
behind them and take upon themselves such heavy 
burdens ? Even now many were despairing, though 
they had confronted no serious dangers; for Moses 
had intended to lead the Hebrews in Succoth over 
the road to Philistia direct to the Promised Land in 
Palestine, but the conduct of the people forced him to 
resign this plan and form another. 

To reach the great highway connecting Asia and 
Africa it was necessary to cross the isthmus, which 
rather divided than united the two continents; for it 
was most thoroughly guarded from intruders and, partly 
by natural, partly by artificial obstacles, barred the path 
of every fugitive; a series of deep lakes rolled their 
waves upon its soil, and where these did not stay the 
march of the travelers strong fortifications, garrisoned 
by trained Egyptian troops, rose before them. 

This chain of forts was called Chetam — or in the 
Hebrew tongue — Etham, and wayfarers leaving Suc- 
coth would reach the nearest and strongest of these 
forts in a few hours. 

When the tribes, full of enthusiasm for their God, 
and ready for the most arduous enterprises, shook off 
their chains and, exulting in their new liberty, rushed 


JOSHUA. 


25 


forward to the Promised Land Moses, and with him 
the majority of the elders, had believed that, like a 
mountain torrent, bursting dams and sluices, they would 
destroy and overthrow everything that ventured to 
oppose their progress. With these enthusiastic masses, 
to whom bold advance would secure the highest good, 
and timid hesitation could bring nothing save death 
and ruin, they had expected to rush over the Etham 
line as if it were a pile of faggots. But now since a 
short chain of difficulties and suffering had stifled the 
fire of their souls, now that wherever the eye turned, 
there were two calm and five dissatisfied or anxious 
individuals to one upheld by joyous anticipation, to 
storm the Etham line would have cost rivers of blood 
and moreover jeopardized all that had been already 
gained. 

The overpowering of the little garrison in the store- 
house of Pithom had occurred under specially favorable 
circumstances, which could hardly be expected to happen 
again, so the original plan must be changed, and an 
attempt made to take a circuit around the fortifications. 
Instead of moving toward the northeast, the tribes 
must turn southward. 

But, ere carrying this plan into execution, Moses, 
accompanied by a few trusty men, desired to examine 
the new route and ascertain whether it would be pass- 
able for the great wandering people. 

These matters were discussed under the great syca- 
more in front of Amminadab’s house, and Miriam was 
present, a mute witness. 

Women, — even those like herself, — were forced 
to keep silence when men were holding counsel ; yet it 
was hard for her to remain speechless when it was 


126 


JOSHUA. 


decided to abstain from attacking the forts, even should 
the trained warrior, Hosea, whom God Himself had 
chosen to be his sword, return to his people. 

“ What avails the best leader, if there is no army to 
obey him?” Naashon, Amminadab’s son, had ex- 
claimed, and the others shared his opinion. 

When the council finally broke up, Moses took 
leave of his sister with fraternal affection. She knew 
that he was in the act of plunging into fresh dangers 
and — in the modest manner in which she was always 
wont to accost the brother who so far surpassed all 
others in every gift of mind and body, — expressed her 
anxiety. He looked into her eyes with friendly re- 
proach and raised his right hand toward heaven ; but 
she understood his meaning, and kissing his hand with 
grateful warmth, replied : 

“ You stand under the protection of the Most High, 
and I fear no longer.” 

Pressing his lips upon her brow, he bade her give 
him a tablet, wrote a few words on it, flung it into the 
hollow trunk of the sycamore, and said : 

“For Hosea, no, for Joshua, the son of Nun, if he 
comes while 1 am absent. The Lord has great deeds 
for him to accomplish, when he learns to expect loftier 
things from the Most High than from the mighty ones 
of earth.” 

With these words he left her; but Aaron who, as 
the oldest, was the head of her tribe, lingered and 
told her that a man of worth sought her hand. Miri- 
am, with blanching face, replied : 

“ I know it. . . .” 

He looked at her in surprise and with earnest 
monition, added : 


JOSHUA. 


1 27 


“ As you choose ; yet it will be wise to consider this. 
Your heart belongs to your God and to your people, 
and the man whom you wed must be ready, like your- 
self, to serve both ; for two must be one in marriage, 
and if the highest aim of one is not also that of the 
other, they will remain two till the end. The voice of 
the senses, which drew them together, will soon be mute 
and nothing will be left to them save discord. 

Having said this, he went away, and she, too, 
was preparing to leave the others ; for on the eve of 
departure she might be needed in the house whose 
hospitality she enjoyed. But a new incident detained 
her, as though bound with fetters, under the syca- 
more. 

What cared she for the packing of perishable wares 
and providing for bodily needs, when affairs which oc- 
cupied her whole soul were under discussion ! Elisheba, 
Naashon’s wife, any housekeeper and faithful slave 
could attend to the former wants. Higher things were 
to be determined here — the weal or woe of her 
people. 

Several men of distinction in the tribes had joined 
the elders under the sycamore ; but Hur had already 
departed with Moses. 

Uri, the son of the former, now appeared beneath 
the ancient tree. The worker in metals, who had just 
come from Egypt, had talked in Memphis with persons 
who were near to the king and learned that Pharaoh 
was ready to remove great burdens from the Hebrews 
and grant them new favors, if Moses would render the 
God whom he served propitious to him and induce the 
people to return after they had offered sacrifices in the 
wilderness. Therefore it would be advisable to send 
3 * 


128 


JOSHUA. 


envoys to Tanis and enter into negotiations with the 
Sublime Porte. 

These proposals, which Uri had not yet ventured to 
moot to his father, he, with good intentions, brought 
before the assembled elders ; he hoped that their accept- 
ance might spare the people great suffering. But 
scarcely had he concluded his clear and convincing 
speech, when old Nun, Hosea’s father, who had with 
difficulty held his feelings in check, broke in. 

The old man’s face, usually so cheerful, glowed 
with wrath, and its fiery hue formed a strange contrast 
to the thick white locks which framed it. A few hours 
before he had heard Moses repel similar propositions 
with harsh decision and crushing reasons ; now he had 
heard them again brought forward and noted many a 
gesture of assent among the listeners, and saw the whole 
great enterprise imperilled, the enterprise for whose 
success he had himself risked and sacrificed more than 
any other man. 

This was too much for the active old man who, with 
flashing eyes and hand upraised in menace, burst forth : 
“ What do you mean ? Are we to pick up the 
ends of the rope the Lord our God has severed ? Do 
you counsel us to fasten it anew, with a looser knot, 
which will hold as long as the whim of a vacillating 
weakling who has broken his promises to us and to 
Moses a score of times ? Do you wish to lead us back 
to the cage whence the Almighty released us by a 
miracle ? Are we to treat the Lord our God like a bad 
debtor and prefer the spurious gold ring we are offered 
to the royal treasures He promises ? Oh, messenger 
from the Egyptians — I would . . . .” 

Here the hot-blooded grey-beard raised his clenched 


JOSHUA. 


I29 


fist in menace but, ere he had uttered the threat that 
hovered on his lips, he let his arm fall ; for Gabriel, the 
oldest member of the tribe of Zebulun, shouted : 

“ Remember your own son, who is to-day among 
the foes of his people.” 

The words struck home ; yet they only dimmed the 
fiery old man’s glad self-reliance a moment and, amid 
the voices uttering disapproval of the malicious Gabriel 
and the few who upheld the Zebulunite, he cried : 

“ And because I am perhaps in danger of losing, 
not only the ten thousand acres of land I flung behind 
me, but a noble son, it is my right to speak here.” 

His broad chest heaved with his labored breathing 
and his eyes, shadowed by thick white brows, rested 
with a milder expression on the son of Hur, whose 
face had paled at his vehement words, as he con- 
tinued : 

“ Uri is a good and dutiful son to his father and has 
also been obliged to make great sacrifices in leaving the 
place where his work was so much praised and his own 
house in Memphis. The blessing of the Most High 
will not fail him. But for the very reason that he has 
hitherto obeyed the command, he must not now seek to 
destroy what we have commenced under the guidance 
of the Most High. To you, Gabriel, I answer that my 
son probably will not tarry among our foes, but obedi- 
ent to my summons, will join us, like Uri, the first-born of 
Hur. What still detains him is doubtless some important 
matter of which Hosea will have as little cause to be 
ashamed as I, his father. I know and trust him, and 
whoever expects aught else will sooner or later, by my 
son’s course of action, be proved a liar.” 

Here he paused to push his white hair back from 


130 


JOSHUA. 


his burning brow and, as no one contradicted him, he 
turned to the worker in metals, and added with cordial 
friendliness : 

“ What angered me, Uri, was certainly not your 
purpose. That is a good one ; but you have measured 
the greatness and majesty of the God of our fathers by 
the standard of the false gods of the Egyptians, who 
die and rise again and, as Aaron has just said, represent 
only minor attributes of Him who is in all and tran- 
scends everything. To serve God, until Moses taught 
me a better counsel, I deemed meant to sacrifice an ox, 
a lamb, or a goose upon the altar like the Egyptians ; 
but your eyes, as befell me through Moses, will not be 
opened to Him who rules the world and has made us 
His people, until, like me, you, and all of us, and prob- 
ably my son also, shall each have kindled in his own 
breast the sacrificial fire which never goes out and con- 
sumes everything that does not relate to Him in love and 
loyalty, faith and reverence. Through Moses, His ser- 
vant, God has promised us the greatest blessings — de- 
liverance from bondage, the privilege of ruling on our 
own land as free men in a beautiful country, our own 
possession and the heritage of our children. We are 
going forth to receive His gift, and whoever seeks to stop 
us on our way, whoever urges us to turn and creep back 
into the net whose brazen meshes we have burst, advises 
his people to run once more like sheep into the fire from 
which they have escaped. I am not angry with you ; 
your face shows that you perceive how foolishly you 
have erred ; but all ye who are here must know that I 
heard only a few hours ago from Moses’ own lips these 
words : 1 Whoever counsels return and the making of 

covenants with the Egyptians, I will denounce as a 


JOSHUA. 


I3 1 

scorner of Jehovah our God, and the destroyer and 
worst foe of his people !’ ” 

Uri went to the old man, gave him his hand, and 
deeply convinced of the justice of his reproaches, ex- 
claimed : “No treaty, no covenant with the Egyp- 
tians ! I am grateful to you, Nun, for opening my 
eyes. To me, also, the hour will doubtless come in 
which you, or some one who stands nearer to Him than 
I, will teach me to know your God, who is also mine.” 

As he ceased speaking, he went away with Nun, 
who put his arm around his shoulders; but Miriam had 
listened breathlessly to Uri’s last words, and as he ex- 
pressed a desire to know the God of his people, her 
eyes had sparkled with the light of enthusiasm.. She 
felt that her soul was filled with the greatness of the 
Most High and that she had the gift of speech to make 
another familiar with the knowledge she herself pos- 
sessed. But this time also custom required her to keep 
silence. Her heart ached, and as she again moved 
among the multitude and convinced herself that Hosea 
had not yet come, she went home, as twilight was be- 
ginning to gather, and joined the others on the roof. 

No one there appeared to have missed her, not even 
poor melancholy Milcah, and she felt unutterably lonely 
in this house. 

If Hosea would only come, if she might have a 
strong breast on which to lean, if this sense of being a 
stranger in her own home, this useless life beneath the 
roof she was obliged to call hers, though she never 
felt thoroughly at home under it, would but cease ! 

Moses and Aaron, too, had gone away, taking Hur’s 
grandson with them ; but no one had deemed her, who 
lived and breathed solely for her people and their 


132 


JOSHUA. 


welfare, worthy to learn whither their journey led or 
what was its purpose. 

Why had the God to whom she devoted her whole 
life and being made her a woman, yet given her the 
mind and soul of a man ? 

She waited, as if to test whether any of the circle of 
kindly-natured people to which she belonged really 
loved her, for some one of the elders or the children to 
accost her; but Eleasar’s little ones were pressing 
around their grandparents, and she had never under- 
stood how to make herself agreeable to children. 
Elisheba was directing the slaves who were putting the 
finishing touches to the packing ; Milcah sat with her 
cat in her lap, gazing into vacancy. No one heeded 
or spoke to her. 

Bitter pain overpowered Miriam, and after she had 
shared the evening meal with the others, and forced 
herself not to disturb by her own sorrowful mood, the 
joyous excitement of the children, who looked forward 
to the pilgrimage as a great pleasure, she longed to 
go out of doors. 

Closely veiled, she passed alone through the camp 
and what she beheld there was certainly ill-suited to 
dispel the mood that oppressed her. There was plenty 
of noise, and though sometimes devout hymns, full of 
joy and hope, echoed on the air, she heard far more 
frequently savage quarrelling and rebellious words. 
When her ear caught threats or reproaches levelled 
against her noble brother, she quickened her pace, but 
she could not escape her anxiety concerning what 
would happen at the departure after sunrise on the 
morrow, should the malcontents obtain supremacy. 

She knew that the people would be forced to press 


JOSHUA. 


x 33 


forward; but her dread of Pharaoh’s military power 
had never permitted her to be at peace — to her it was 
as it were embodied in Hosea’s heroic figure. If the 
Lord Himself did not fight in the ranks of the wretched 
bondmen and shepherds who were quarrelling and dis- 
puting around her, how were they to withstand the 
well-trained and equipped hosts of the Egyptians, with 
their horses and chariots ? 

She had heard that guards had been posted in all 
parts of the camp, with orders to sound the horn or 
strike the cymbal at the approach of the foe, until the 
men had flocked to the spot whence the warning first 
echoed. 

She had long listened for such an alarm, yet how 
much more intently for the hoof-beats of a single steed, 
the firm step and deep voice of the warrior for whom she 
yearned. On his account she constantly returned to the 
northern part of the camp which adjoined the road 
coming from Tanis and where now, at Moses’ bidding, 
the tents of most of the men capable of bearing arms 
were pitched. Here she had hoped to find true con- 
fidence ; but as she listened to the talk of the armed 
soldiers who surrounded the camp-fires in dense circles, 
she heard that Uri’s proposal had reached them also. 
Most of them were husbands and fathers, had left behind 
a house, a bit of land, a business, or an office, and 
though many spoke of the command of the Most High 
and the beautiful new home God had promised, not a 
few were disposed to return. How gladly she would 
have gone among these blinded mortals and exhorted 
them to obey with fresh faith and confidence the com- 
mand of the Lord and of her brother. But here, too, 
she was forced to keep silence. She was permitted to 


134 


JOSHUA. 


listen only, and she was most strongly attracted to the 
very places where she might expect to hear rebellious 
words and proposals. 

There was a mysterious charm in this cruel excite- 
ment and she felt as if she were deprived of something 
desirable when many a fire was extinguished, the 
soldiers went to sleep, and conversation ceased. 

She now turned for the last time toward the road 
leading from Tanis ; but nothing was stirring there save 
the sentries pacing to and fro. 

She had not yet doubted Hosea’s coming ; for the 
summons she had sent to him in the name of the Lord 
had undoubtedly reached him ; but now that the stars 
showed her it was past midnight, the thought came 
vividly before her mind of the many years he had 
spent among the Egyptians, and that he might perhaps 
deem it unworthy of a man to obey the call of a 
woman, even if she uplifted her voice in the name of 
the Most High. She had experienced humiliations 
enough that day, why should not this be decreed also ? 


CHAPTER XIV 

Deeply disturbed and tortured by such thoughts, 
Miriam walked toward Amminadab’s house to seek 
repose; but just as she was in the act of crossing the 
threshold, she paused and again listened for sounds 
coming from the north. 

Hosea must arrive from that direction. 


JOSHUA. 


1 35 


But she heard nothing save the footsteps of a 
sentinel and the voice of Hur, who was patrolling the 
camp with a body of armed men. 

He, too, had been unable to stay in the house. 

The night was mild and starry, the time seemed 
just suited for dreams under the sycamore. Her bench 
beneath the venerable tree was empty, and with droop- 
ing head she approached the beloved resting-place, 
which she must leave forever on the morrow. 

But ere she had reached the spot so close at hand, 
she paused with her figure drawn up to its full height 
and her hand pressed upon her throbbing bosom. This 
time she was not mistaken, the beat of hoofs echoed on 
the air, and it came from the north. 

Were Pharaoh’s chariots approaching to attack the 
camp ? Should she shout to wake the warriors ? Or 
could it be he whom she so longingly expected ? Yes, 
yes, yes! It was the tramp, of a single steed, and 
must be a new arrival ; for there were loud voices in 
the tents, the dogs barked, and shouts, questions, and 
answers came nearer and nearer with the rider. 

It was Hosea, she felt sure. His riding alone 
through the night, released from the bonds that united 
him to Pharaoh and his comrades in arms, was a sign 
of his obedience! Love had steeled his will and 
quickened the pace of his steed, and the gratitude of 
answering affection, the reward she could bestow, should 
be withheld no longer. In her arms he should bliss- 
fully perceive that he had resigned great possessions to 
obtain something still fairer and sweeter ! She felt as 
though the darkness around had suddenly brightened 
into broad day, as her ear told her that the approach- 
ing horseman was riding straight toward the house of 


136 


JOSHUA. 


her host Amminadab. She now knew that he was 
obeying her summons, that he had come to find her. 

Hosea was seeking her ere he went to his own 
father, who had found shelter in the big empty house 
of his grandson, Ephraim. 

He would gladly have dashed toward her at the 
swiftest pace of his steed, but it would not do to ride 
rapidly through the camp. Ah, how long the time 
seemed ere she at last saw the horseman, ere he swung 
himself to the ground, and his companion Hung the 
reins of the horse to a man who followed him. 

It was he, it was Hosea ! 

But his companion — she had recognized him dis- 
tinctly and shrank a little — his companion was Hur. 
the man who a few hours before had sought her for his 
wife. 

There stood her two suitors side by side in the star- 
light, illumined by the glare of the pitch torches blaz- 
ing beside the carts and household utensils which had 
been packed for the morrow’s journey. 

The tall figure of the elder Hebrew towered over 
the sinewy form of the warrior, and the shepherd 
prince bore himself no whit less erect than the Egyp- 
tian hero Both voices sounded earnest and manly, 
yet her lover’s seemed to Miriam stronger and deeper. 
They had now advanced so near that she could under- 
stand their conversation. 

Hur was telling the newcomer that Moses had 
gone on a reconnoitring expedition, and Hosea was 
expressing his regret, because he had important matters 
to discuss with him. 

Then he must set out with the tribes the next 


JOSHUA. 


137 


morning, Hur replied, for Moses intended to join them 
on the way. 

Then he pointed to Amminadab’s house, from which 
no ray of light gleamed through the darkness, and 
asked Hosea to spend the remainder of the night 
beneath his roof, as he probably would not wish to 
disturb his aged father at so late an hour. 

Miriam saw her friend hesitate and gaze intently up 
to the women’s apartments and the roof of her host’s 
house. Knowing what he sought, she could no longer 
resist the impulse of her heart, but stepped forth from 
the shadow of the sycamore and gave Hosea a cordial 
and tender welcome. 

He, too, disdained to conceal the joy of his heart, 
and Hur stood beside the reunited lovers, as they 
clasped each other’s hands, and exchanged greetings, 
at first mutely, then with warm words. 

“ I knew you would come !” cried the maiden, and 
Hosea answered with joyful emotion. 

“ You might easily suppose so, oh Prophetess; for 
your own voice was among those that summoned me 
here.” 

Then in a calmer tone, he added : “ I hoped to 

find your brother also ; I am the bearer of a message 
of grave import to him, to us, and to the people. I see 
that you, too, are ready to depart and should grieve to 
behold the comfort of your aged hosts destroyed by 
hasty acts that may yet be needless.” 

“ What do you mean ?” asked Hur, advancing a 
step nearer to the other. 

n I mean,” replied Hosea, “ that if Moses persists 
in leading the tribes eastward, much blood will flow 
uselessly to-morrow ; for I learned at Tanis that the 


JOSHUA. 


* 3 8 

garrison of Etham has been ordered to let no man pass, 
still less the countless throng, whose magnitude surprised 
me as I rode through the camp. I know Apu, who 
commands the fortifications and the legions whom he 
leads. There would be a terrible, fruitless massacre of 
our half-armed, untrained people, there would be — in 
short, I have urgent business to discuss with Moses, 
urgent and immediate, to avert the heaviest misfortune 
ere it is too late.” 

“ What you fear has not escaped our notice,” replied 
Hur, “ and it is in order to guard against this peril that 
Moses has set forth on a dangerous quest.” 

“ Whither ?” asked Hosea. 

“ That is the secret of the leaders of the tribes.” 

“ Of which my father is one.” 

“ Certainly ; and I have already offered to take you 
to him. If he assumes the responsibility of informing 
you . . . 

“ Should he deem it a breach of duty, he will keep 
silence. Who is to command the wandering hosts to- 
morrow ?” 

U J » 

“ You ?” asked Hosea in astonishment, and Hur 
answered calmly : 

“ You marvel at the audacity of the shepherd who 
ventures to lead an army ; but the Lord of all armies, 
to whom we trust our cause, is our leader ; I rely solely 
on His guidance.” 

“ And so do I,” replied Hosea. “No one save the 
God through whom Miriam summoned me to this spot, 
entrusted me — of that I am confident — with the im- 
portant message which brings me here. I must find 
Moses ere it is too late.” 


JOSHUA. 


*39 


“ You have already heard that he will be beyond 
the reach of any one, myself included, until to-morrow, 
perhaps the day after. Will you speak to Aaron ?” 

“ Is he in the camp ?” 

“No; but we expect his return before the departure 
of the people, that is in a few hours.” 

“ Has he the power to decide important matters in 
Moses’ absence ?” 

“ No, he merely announces to the people in more 
eloquent language what his illustrious brother com- 
mands.” 

The warrior bent his eyes with a disappointed 
expression on the ground, and after a brief pause for 
reflection eagerly added, fixing his gaze on Miriam : 

“ It is Moses to whom the Lord our God announces 
his will ; but to you, his august maiden sister, the Most 
High also reveals himself, to you . . . .” 

“ Oh, Hosea !” interrupted the prophetess, extend- 
ing her hands toward him with a gesture of mingled 
entreaty and warning ; but the chief, instead of heeding 
her monition, went on : 

“ The Lord our God hath commanded you to sum- 
mon me, His servant, back to the people; He hath 
commanded you to give me the name for which I am 
to exchange the one my father and mother bestowed 
upon me, and which I have borne in honor for thirty 
years. Obedient to your summons, I have cast aside 
all that could make me great among men ; but on my 
way through Egypt, — bearing in my heart the image 
of my God and of you, — braving death, the mes- 
sage I now have to deliver was entrusted to me, and I 
believe that it came from the Most High Himself. It is 
my duty to convey it to the leaders of the people ; but 


140 


JOSHUA. 


as I am unable to find Moses, I can confide it to no 
better one than you who, though only a woman, 
stand, — next to your brother — nearest to the Most 
High, so I implore you to listen to me. The tidings I 
bring are not yet ripe for the ears of a third person.” 

Hur drew his figure to a still greater height and, in- 
terrupting Hosea, asked Miriam whether she desired to 
hear the son of Nun without witnesses; she answered 
with a quiet “ yes.” 

Then Hur turned haughtily and coldly to the 
warrior : 

“I think that Miriam knows the Lord’s will, as well 
as her brother’s, and is aware of what beseems the 
women of Israel. If I am not mistaken, it was under 
this tree that your own father, the worthy Nun, gave to 
my son Uri the sole answer which Moses must also 
make to every bearer of a message akin to yours.” 

“ Do you know it ?” asked Hosea in a tone of cmt 
reproof. 

“ No,” replied the other, “ but I suspect its purport, 
and look here.” 

While speaking he stooped with youthful agility 
and, raising two large stones with his powerful arms, 
propped them against each other, rolled several smaller 
ones to their sides, and then, with panting breath, ex- 
claimed : 

“ Let this heap be a witness between me and thee, 
like the stones named Mizpah which Jacob and Laban 
erected. And as the latter called upon the Lord to 
watch between him and the other, so do I likewise. I 
point to this heap that you may remember it, when 
we are parted one from the other. I lay my hand upon 
these stones and bear witness that I, Hur, son of Caleb 


JOSHUA. 


141 


and Ephrath, put my trust in no other than the Lord, 
the God of our fathers, and am ready to obey His com- 
mand, which calls us forth from the kingdom of 
Pharaoh into a land which He promised to us. But of 
thee, Hosea, son of Nun, I ask and the Lord our God 
hears thee : Dost thou, too, expect no other help save 
from the God of Abraham, who has made thy race His 
chosen people ? And wilt thou also testify whether 
thou wilt ever regard the Egyptians who oppressed us, 
and from whose bondage the Lord our God delivered 
us, as the mortal foes of thv God and of thy race ?” 

The warrior’s bearded features quivered, and he 
longed to overthrow the heap and answer the trouble- 
some questioner with wrathful words, but Miriam had 
laid her hand on the top of the pile of stones, and 
clasping his right hand, exclaimed : 

“ He is questioning you in the presence of our God 
and Lord, who is your witness.” 

Hosea succeeded in controlling his wrath, and 
pressing the maiden’s hand more closely, he answered 
earnestly : 

“ He questions, but I may not answer ; * yea ’ or 
* nay ’ will be of little service here ; but I, too, call God 
to witness, and before this heap you, Miriam, but you 
alone, shall hear what I propose and for what purpose 
I have come. Look, Hur ! Like you I lay my hand 
upon this heap and bear witness that I, Hosea, son of 
Nun, put my sole trust in the Lord and God of our 
fathers. He stands as a witness between me and thee, 
and shall decide whether my way is His, or that of an 
erring mortal. I will obey His will, which He has 
made known to Moses and to this noble maiden. This 
I swear by an oath whose witness is the Lord our God.” 


142 


JOSHUA. 


Hur had listened intently and, impressed by the 
earnestness of the words, now exclaimed : 

“ The Lord our God has heard your vow and 
against your oath I, in the presence of this heap, take 
another: If the hour comes when, mindful of this 
heap of stones, you give the testimony you have re- 
fused me. there shall henceforward be no ill-will be- 
tween us, and if it is in accordance with the will of the 
Most High, I will cheerfully resign to you the office of 
commander, which you, trained in many wars, would 
be better suited to fill than I, who hitherto have ruled 
only my flocks and shepherds. But you, Miriam, I 
charge to remember that this heap of stones will also 
be a witness of the colloquy you are to hold with this 
man in the presence of God. I remind you of the re- 
proving words you heard beneath this tree from the lips 
of his father, and call God to witness that I would have 
darkened the life of my son Uri, who is the joy of my 
heart, with a father’s curse if he had gone among the 
people to induce them to favor the message he brought ; 
for it would have turned those of little faith from their 
God. Remember this, maiden, and let me say again : 
If you seek me you will find me, and the door I 
opened will remain open to you, whatever may hap- 
pen !” 

With these words Hur turned his back upon Miriam 
and the warrior. 

Neither knew what had befallen them, but he who 
during the long ride beset by many a peril had yearned 
with ardent anticipations for the hour which was to once 
more unite him to the object of his love, gazed on 
the ground full of bewilderment and profound anxiety, 
while Miriam who, at his approach, had been ready to 


JOSHUA. 


143 


bestow upon him the highest, sweetest gifts with which 
a loving woman rewards fidelity and love, had sunk to 
the earth before the ominous pile of stones close beside 
the tree and pressed her forehead against its gnarled, 
hollow trunk. 


CHAPTER XV. 

For a long time nothing was heard beneath the 
sycamore save Miriam’s low moans and the impatient 
footsteps of the warrior who, while struggling for com- 
posure, did not venture to disturb her. 

He could not yet understand what had suddenly 
towered like a mountain between him and the object of 
his love. 

He had learned from Hur’s words that his father 
and Moses rejected all mediation, yet the promises he 
was bearing to the people seemed to him a merciful 
gift from the Most High. None of his race yet knew 
it and, if Moses was the man whom he believed him to 
be, the Lord must open his eyes and show him that he 
had chosen him, Hosea, to lead the people through his 
mediation to a fairer future ; nor did he doubt that He 
could easily win his father over to his side. He would 
even have declared a second time, with the firmest 
faith, that it was the Most High who had pointed out his 
path, and after reflecting upon all this he approached 
Miriam, who had at last risen, with fresh confidence. 
His loving heart prompted him to clasp her in his 
arms, but she thrust him back and her voice, usually so 
pure and clear, sounded harsh and muffled as she asked 
33 


144 


JOSHUA. 


why he had lingered so long and what he intended to 
confide to her. 

While cowering under the sycamore, she had not 
only struggled and prayed for composure, but also 
gazed into her own soul. She loved Hosea, but she sus- 
pected that he came with proposals similar to those of 
Uri, and the wrathful words of hoary Nun rang in her 
ears more loudly than ever. The fear that the man she 
loved was walking in mistaken paths, and the startling 
act of Hur had made the towering waves of her passion 
subside and her mind, now capable of calmer reflection, 
desired first of all to know what had so long detained 
him whom she had summoned in the name of her 
God, and why he came alone, without Ephraim. 

The clear sky was full of stars, and these heavenly 
bodies, which seem to have been appointed to look 
down upon the bliss of united human lovers, now wit- 
nessed the anxious questions of a tortured girl and the 
impatient answers of a fiery, bitterly disappointed 
man. 

He began with the assurance of his love and that 
he had come to make her his wife ; but, though she 
permitted him to hold her hand in his clasp, she en- 
treated him to cease pleading his suit and first tell her 
what she desired to know. 

On his way he had received various reports concern- 
ing Ephraim through a brother-in-arms from Tanis, so he 
could tell her that the lad had been disobedient and, 
probably from foolish curiosity, had gone, ill and 
wounded, to the city, where he had found shelter and 
care in the house of a friend. But this troubled Miri- 
am, who seemed to regard it as a reproach to know 
that the orphaned, inexperienced lad, who had grown 


JOSHUA* 


45 

up under her own eyes and whom she herself had 
sent forth among strangers, was beneath an Egyptian 
roof. 

But Hosea declared that he would undertake the 
task of bringing him back to his people and as, never- 
theless she continued to show her anxiety, asked whether 
he had forfeited her confidence and love. Instead of 
giving him a consoling answer, she began to put more 
questions, desiring to know what had delayed his com- 
ing, and so, with a sorely troubled and wounded heart, 
he was forced to make his report and, in truth, begin 
at the end of his story. 

While she listened, leaning against the trunk of the 
sycamore, he paced to and fro, urged by longing and 
impatience, sometimes pausing directly in front of her. 
Naught in this hour seemed to him worthy of being 
clothed in words, save the hope and passion which 
filled his heart. Had he been sure that hers was 
estranged he would have dashed away again, after hav- 
ing revealed his whole soul to his father, and risked 
the ride into unknown regions to seek Moses. To win 
Miriam and save himself from perjury were his only 
desires, and momentous as had been his experiences 
and expectations, during the last few days, he answered 
her questions hastily, as if they concerned the most 
trivial things. 

He began his narrative in hurried words, and the 
more frequently she interrupted him, the more im- 
patiently he bore it, the deeper grew the lines in his 
forehead. 

Hosea, accompanied by his attendant, had ridden 
southward several hours full of gladsome courage and 
rich in budding hopes, when just before dusk he saw a 


146 


JOSHUA. 


vast multitude moving in advance of him. At first he 
supposed he had encountered the rear-guard of the 
migrating Hebrews, and had urged his horse to greater 
speed. But, ere he overtook the wayfarers, some 
peasants and carters who had abandoned their wains 
and beasts of burden rushed past him with loud out- 
cries and shouts of warning which told him that the 
people moving in front were lepers. And the fugitives’ 
w arning had been but too well founded ; for the first, 
who turned with the heart-rending cry : “ Unclean ! 
Unclean !” bore the signs of those attacked by the fell 
disease, and from their distorted faces covered with 
white dust and scurf, lustreless eyes, destitute of brows, 
gazed at him. 

Hosea soon recognized individuals, here Egyptian 
priests with shaven heads, yonder Hebrew men and 
women. With the stem composure of a soldier, he 
questioned both and learned that they were marching 
from the stone quarries opposite Memphis to their place 
of isolation on the eastern shore of the Nile. Several 
of the Hebrews among them had heard from their rela- 
tives that their people had left Egypt and gone to seek 
a land which the Lord had promised them. Many 
had therefore resolved to put their trust also in the 
mighty God of their fathers and follow the wanderers ; 
the Egyptian priests, bound to the Hebrews by the tie 
of a common misfortune, had accompanied them, and 
fixed upon Succoth as the goal of their journey, know- 
ing that Moses intended to lead his people there first. 
But every one who could have directed them on their 
w r ay had fled before them, so they had kept too far 
northward and wandered near the fortress of Thabne. 
Hosea had met them a mile from this spot and advised 


JOSHUA. 


H7 


them to turn back, that they might not bring their mis- 
fortune upon their fugitive brethren. 

During this conversation, a body of Egyptian 
soldiers had marched from the fortress toward the lepers 
to drive them from the road ; but their commander, 
who knew Hosea, used no violence, and both men per- 
suaded the leaders of the lepers to accept the proposal 
to be guided to the peninsula of Sinai, where in the 
midst of the mountains, not far from the mines, a 
colony of lepers had settled. They had agreed to this 
plan because Hosea promised them that, if the tribes 
went eastward, they would meet them and receive every- 
one who was healed ; but if the Hebrews remained in 
Egypt, nevertheless the pure air of the desert would 
bring health to many a sufferer, and every one who re- 
covered would be free to return home. 

These negotiations had consumed much time, and 
the first delay was followed by many others ; for as 
Hosea had been in such close contact with the lepers, 
he was obliged to ride to Thabne, there with the com- 
mander of the garrison, who had stood by his side, to 
be sprinkled with bird’s blood, put on new garments, 
and submit to certain ceremonies which he himself 
considered necessary and which could be performed 
only in the bright sunlight. His servant had been kept 
in the fortress because the kind-hearted man had shaken 
hands with a relative whom he met among the hapless 
wretches. 

The cause of the delay had been both sorrowful and 
repulsive, and not until after Hosea had left Thabne in 
the afternoon and proceeded on his way to Succoth, did 
hope and joy again revive at the thought of seeing 


148 


JOSHUA. 


Miriam once more and bringing to his people a message 
that promised so much good. 

His heart had never throbbed faster or with more 
joyous anticipation than on the nocturnal ride which 
led him to his father and the woman he loved, and on 
reaching his goal, instead of the utmost happiness, he 
now found only bitter disappointment. 

He had reluctantly described in brief, disconnected 
sentences his meeting with the lepers, though he be- 
lieved he had done his best for the welfare of these 
unfortunates. All of his warrior comrades had uttered 
a word of praise ; but when he paused she whose ap- 
proval he valued above aught else, pointed to a portion 
of the camp and said sadly : “ They are of our blood, 

and our God is theirs. The lepers in Zoan, Pha-kos 
and Phibeseth* followed the others at a certain distance, 
and their tents are pitched outside the camp. Those 
in Succoth — there are not many — will also be per- 
mitted to go forth with us ; for when the Lord promised 
the people the Land for which they long, He meant 
lofty and lowly, poor and humble, and surely also the 
hapless ones who must now remain in the hands of the 
foe. Would you not have done better to separate the 
Hebrews from the Egyptians, and guide those of our 
own blood to us ?” 

The warrior’s manly pride rebelled and his answer 
sounded grave and stem : “ In war we must resolve to 

sacrifice hundreds in order to save thousands. The 
shepherds separate the scabby sheep to protect the 
flock.” 

“ True,” replied Miriam eagerly ; “ for the shepherd 
is a feeble man, who knows no remedy against conta- 
* The Hebrew name of the Greek Bubastis. 


JOSHUA. 


149 


gion ; but the Lord, who calls all His people, will suffer 
no harm to arise from rigid obedience.” 

“ That is a woman’s mode of thought,” replied Ho- 
sea ; “ but what pity dictates to her must not weigh 
too heavily in the balance in the councils of men. You 
willingly obey the voice of the heart, which is most 
proper, but you should not forget what befits you and 
your sex.” 

A deep flush crimsoned Miriam’s cheeks ; for she felt 
the sting contained in this speech with two-fold pain 
because it was Hosea who dealt the thrust. How many 
pangs she had been compelled to endure that day on 
account of her sex, and now he, too, made her feel that 
she was not his peer because she was a woman. In the 
presence of the stones Hur had gathered, and on 
which her hand now rested, he had appealed to her 
verdict, as though she were one of the leaders of the 
people, and now he abruptly thrust her, who felt herself 
inferior to no man in intellect and talent, back into a 
woman’s narrow sphere. 

But he, too, felt his dignity wounded, and her bear- 
ing showed him that this hour would decide whether he 
or she would have the mastery in their future union. 
He stood proudly before her, his mien stern in its maj- 
esty — never before had he seemed so manly, so worthy 
of admiration. Yet the desire to battle for her insulted 
womanly dignity gained supremacy over every other 
feeling, and it was she who at last broke the brief, pain- 
ful silence that had followed his last words r and with a 
composure won only by the exertion of all her strength 
of will, she began : 

“ We have both forgotten what detains us here so 
late at night. You wished to confide to me what brings 


JOSHUA. 


1 5 ° 

you to your people and to hear, not what Miriam, the 
weak woman, but the confidante of the Lord decides.” 

“ I hoped also to hear the voice of the maiden on 
whose love I rely,” he answered gloomily. 

“ You shall hear it,” she replied quickly, taking hei 
hand from the stones. “ Yet it may be that I cannot 
agree with the opinion of the man whose strength and 
wisdom are so far superior to mine, yet you have just 
shown that you cannot tolerate the opposition of a 
woman, not even mine.” 

“ Miriam,” he interrupted reproachfully, but she 
continued still more eagerly : “ I have felt it, and 
because it would be the greatest grief of my life to lose 
your heart, you must learn to understand me, ere you 
call upon me to express my opinion.” 

“ First hear my message.” 

“No, no!” she answered quickly. “The reply 
would die upon my lips. Let me first tell you of the 
woman who has a loving heart, and yet knows some- 
thing else that stands higher than love. Do you 
smile ? You have a right to do so, you have so long 
been a stranger to the secret I mean to confide. ...” 

“ Speak then !” he interrupted, in a tone which 
betrayed how difficult it was for him to control his 
impatience. 

“ I thank you,” she answered warmly. Then lean- 
ing against the trunk of the ancient tree, while he sank 
down on the bench, gazing alternately at the ground 
and into her face, she began : 

“ Childhood already lies behind me, and youth will 
soon follow. When I was a little girl, there was not 
much to distinguish me from others. I played like 


JOSHUA. 


* 5 * 

them and, though my mother had taught me to pray to 
the God of our fathers, I was well pleased to listen to 
the other children’s tales of the goddess Isis. Nay, I 
stole into her temple, bought spices, plundered our 
little garden for her, anointed her altar, and brought 
flowers for' offerings. I was taller and stronger than 
many of my companions, and was also the daughter 
of Amram, so they followed me and readily did what 
I suggested. When I was eight years old, we moved 
hither from Zoan. Ere I again found a girl-playfellow, 
you came to Gamaliel, your sister’s husband, to be 
cured of the wound dealt by a Libyan’s lance. Do 
you remember that time when you, a youth, made the 
little girl a companion ? I brought you what you 
needed and prattled to you of the things I knew, but 
you told me of bloody battles and victories, of flashing 
armor, and the steeds and chariots of the warrior. You 
showed me the ring your daring had won, and when 
the wound in your breast was cured, we roved over the 
pastures. Isis, whom you also loved, had a temple 
here, and how often I secretly slipped into the fore- 
court to pray for you and offer her my holiday-cakes. 
I had heard so much from you of Pharaoh and his 
splendor, of the Egyptians, and their wisdom, their art, 
and luxurious life, that my little heart longed to live 
among them in the capital; besides, it had reached 
my ears that my brother Moses had received great 
favors in Pharaoh’s palace and risen to distinction in 
the priesthood. I no longer cared for our own people ; 
they seemed to me inferior to the Egyptians in all 
respects. 

“Then came the parting from you and, as my little 
heart was devout and expected all good gifts from the 


J 5 2 


JOSHUA. 


divine power, no matter what name it bore, I prayed 
for Pharaoh and his army, in whose ranks you were 
fighting. 

“ My mother sometimes spoke of the God of our 
fathers as a mighty protector, to whom the people in 
former days owed much gratitude, and told me many 
beautiful tales of Him; but she herself often offered 
sacrifices in the temple of Seth, or carried clover blos- 
soms to the sacred bull of the sun-god. She, too, was 
kindly disposed toward the Egyptians, among whom 
her pride and joy, our Moses, had attained such high 
honors. 

“ So in happy intercourse with the others I reached 
my fifteenth year. In the evening, when the shepherds 
returned home, I sat with the young people around the 
fire, and was pleased when the sons of the shepherd 
princes preferred me to my companions and sought my 
love ; but I refused them all, even the Egyptian captain 
who commanded the garrison of the storehouse; for I 
remembered you, the companion of my youth. My 
best possession would not have seemed too dear a 
price to pay for some magic spell that would have 
brought you to us when, at the festal games, I danced 
and sang to the tambourine while the loudest shouts of 
applause greeted me. Whenever many were listening 
I thought of you — then I poured forth like the lark 
the feelings that filled my heart, then my song was 
inspired by you and not by the fame of the Most 
High, to whom it was consecrated.” 

Here passion, with renewed power, seized the man, 
to whom the woman he loved was confessing so many 
blissful memories. Suddenly starting up, he extended 
his arms toward her ; but she sternly repulsed him, that 


JOSHUA. 


153 


she might control the yearning which threatened to 
overpower her also. 

Yet her deep voice had gained a new, strange tone 
as, at first rapidly and softly, then in louder and firmer 
accents, she continued : 

“ So I attained my eighteenth year and was no 
longer satisfied to dwell in Succoth. An indescribable 
longing, and not for you only, had taken possession of 
my soul. What had formerly afforded me pleasure 
now seemed shallow, and the monotony of life here in 
the remote frontier city amid shepherds and flocks, 
appeared dull and pitiful. 

“ Eleasar, Aaron’s son, had taught me to read and 
brought me books, full of tales which could never have 
happened, yet which stirred the heart. Many also 
contained hymns and fervent songs such as one lover 
sings to another. These made a deep impression on 
my soul and, whenever I was alone in the evening, or 
at noon-day when the shepherds and flocks were far 
away in the fields, I repeated these songs or composed 
new ones, most of which were hymns in praise of the 
deity. Sometimes they extolled Amon with the ram’s 
head, sometimes cow-headed Isis, and often, too, the 
great and omnipotent God who revealed Himself to 
Abraham, and of whom my mother spoke more and 
more frequently as she advanced in years. To com- 
pose such hymns in quiet hours, wait for visions reveal- 
ing God’s grandeur and splendor, or beautiful angels 
and horrible demons, became my favorite occupation. 
The merry child had grown a dreamy maiden, who let 
household affairs go as they would. And there was no 
one who could have warned me, for my mother had 
followed my father to the grave, and I now lived alone 


i54 


JOSHUA. 


with my old aunt Rachel, unhappy myself, and a source 
of joy to no one. Aaron, the oldest of our family, had 
removed to the dwelling of his father-in-law Ammina- 
dab: the house of Amram, his heritage, had become 
too small and plain for him and he left it to me. My 
companions avoided me ; for my mirthfulness had de- 
parted and I patronized them with wretched arrogance 
because I could compose songs and beheld more in my 
visions than all the other maidens. 

“ Nineteen years passed and, on the evening of my 
birthday, which no one remembered save Milcah, 
Eleasar’s daughter, the Most High for the first time 
sent me a messenger. He came in the guise of an 
angel, and bade me set the house in order; for a guest, 
the person dearest to me on earth, was on the way. 

“ It was early and under this very tree ; but I went 
home and, with old Rachel’s help, set the house in 
order, and provided food, wine, and all else we offer to 
an honored guest. Noon came, the afternoon passed 
away, evening deepened into night, and morning re- 
turned, yet I still waited for the guest. But when the 
sun of that day was nearing the western horizon, the 
dogs began to bark loudly, and when I went to the 
door a powerful man, with tangled grey hair and 
beard, clad in the tattered white robes of a priest, 
hurried toward me. The dogs shrank back whining; 
but I recognized my brother. 

“ Our meeting after so long a separation at first 
brought me more fear than pleasure; for Moses was 
flying from the officers of the law because he had slain 
the overseer. You know the story. 

“ Wrath still glowed in his flashing eyes. He 
seemed to me like the god Seth in his fury, and each 


JOSHUA. 


^55 

one of his slow words was graven upon my soul as by a 
hammer and chisel. Thrice seven days and nights he 
remained under my roof, and as I was alone with him 
and deaf Rachel, and he was compelled to remain con- 
cealed, no one came between us, and he taught me to 
know Him who is the God of our fathers. 

“ Trembling and despairing, I listened to his power- 
ful words, which seemed to fall like rocks upon my 
breast, when he admonished me of God’s requirements, 
or described the grandeur and wrath of Him whom no 
mind can comprehend, and no name can describe. Ah, 
when he spoke of Him and of the Egyptian gods, it 
seemed as if the God of my people stood before me 
like a giant, whose head touched the sky, and the other 
gods were creeping in the dust at his feet like whining 
curs. 

“ He taught me also that we alone were the people 
whom the Lord had chosen, we and no other. Then 
for the first time I was filled with pride at being a de- 
scendant of Abraham, and every Hebrew seemed a 
brother, every daughter of Israel a sister. Now, too, I 
perceived how cruelly my people had been enslaved 
and tortured. I had been blind to their suffering, but 
Moses opened my eyes and sowed in my heart hate, in- 
tense hate of their oppressors, and from this hate sprang 
love for the victims. I vowed to follow my brother and 
await the summons of my God. And lo, he did not 
tarry and Jehovah’s voice spoke to me as with tongues. 

“ Old Rachel died. At Moses’ bidding I gave up 
my solitary life and accepted the invitation of Aaron 
and Amminadab. 

“ So I became a guest in their household, yet led 
a separate life among them all. They did not in- 


JOSHUA. 


* 5 6 

terfere with me, and the sycamore here on their land 
became my special property. Beneath its shadow God 
commanded me to summon you and bestow on you the 
name “ Help of Jehovah ” — and you, no longer 
Hosea, but Joshua, will obey the mandate of God 
and His prophetess.” 

Here the warrior interrupted the maiden’s words, to 
which he had listened earnestly, yet with increasing dis- 
appointment : 

“ Ay, I have obeyed you and the Most High. But 
what it cost me you disdain to ask. Your story has 
reached the present time, yet you have made no mention 
of the days following my mother’s death, during which 
you were our guest in Tanis. Have you forgotten what 
first your eyes and then your lips confessed ? Have 
the day of your departure and the evening on the sea, 
when you bade me hope for and remember you, quite 
vanished from your memory ? Did the hatred Moses 
implanted in your heart kill love as well as every other 
feeling ?” 

“ Love ?” asked Miriam, raising her large eyes 
mournfully to his. “ Oh no. How could I forget that 
time, the happiest of my life ! Yet from the day Moses 
returned from the wilderness by God’s command to re- 
lease the people from bondage — - three months after my 
separation from you — I have taken no note of years 
and months, days and nights.” 

“ Then you have forgotten those also ?” Hosea 
asked harshly. 

“Not so,” Miriam answered, gazing beseechingly 
into his face. “ The love that grew up in the child and 
did not wither in the maiden’s heart, cannot be killed ; 
but whoever consecrates one's life to the Lord. . . 


JOSHUA. 


*57 


Here she suddenly paused, raised her hands and 
eyes rapturously, as if borne out of herself, and cried 
imploringly : “ Thou art near me, Omnipotent One, 

and seest my heart ! Thou knowest why Miriam took 
no note of days and years, and asked nothing save to 
be Thy instrument until her people, who are, also, this 
man’s people, received what Thou didst promise.” 

During this appeal, which rose from the inmost 
depths of the maiden’s heart, the light wind which pre- 
cedes the coming of dawn had risen, and the foliage in 
the thick crown of the sycamore above Miriam’s head 
rustled; but Hosea fairly devoured with his eyes the 
tall majestic figure, half illumined, half veiled by the 
faint glimmering light. What he heard and saw 
seemed like a miracle. The lofty future she anticipated 
for her people, and which must be realized ere she 
would permit herself to yield to the desire of her own 
heart, he believed that he was bearing to them as a mes- 
senger of the Lord. As if rapt by the noble enthusiasm 
of her soul, he rushed toward her, seized her hand, 
and cried in glad emotion : “ Then the hour has come 

which will again permit you to distinguish months from 
days and listen to the wishes of your own soul. For 
lo I, Joshua, no longer Hosea, but Joshua, come as the 
envoy of the Lord, and my message promises to the 
people whom I will learn to love as you do, new pros- 
perity, and thus fulfils the promise of a new and better 
home, bestowed by the Most High.” 

Miriam’s eyes sparkled brightly and, overwhelmed 
with grateful joy, she exclaimed : 

“ Thou hast come to lead us into the land which 
Jehovah promised to His people? Qh Lord, how 


JOSHUA. 


r 5 8 

measureless is thy goodness ! He, he comes as Thy 
messenger.” 

“He comes, he is here !” Joshua enthusiastically 
replied, and she did not resist when he clasped her to 
his breast and, thrilling with joy, she returned his kiss. 


CHAPTER XVI. 

Fear of her own weakness soon made Miriam re- 
lease herself from her lover’s embrace, but she listened 
with eager happiness, seeking some new sign from the 
Most High in Joshua’s brief account of everything he 
had felt and experienced since her summons. 

He first described the terrible conflict he endured, 
then how he regained entire faith and, obedient to the 
God of his people and his father’s summons, went to 
the palace expecting imprisonment or death, to obtain 
release from his oath. 

He told her how graciously the sorrowing royal 
pair had received him, and how he had at last taken 
upon himself the office of urging the leaders of his 
nation to guide them into the wilderness for a short 
time only, and then take them home to Egypt, where a 
new and beautiful region on the western bank of the 
river should be allotted to them. There no foreign 
overseer should henceforward oppress the workmen, 
but the affairs of the Hebrews should be directed by 
their own elders, and a man chosen by themselves ap- 
pointed their head. 

Lastly he said that he, Joshua, would be placed in 
command of the Hebrew forces and, as regent, mediate 


JOSHUA. 


*59 


and settle disputes between them and the Egyptians 
whenever it seemed necessary. 

United to her, a happy husband, he would care in 
the new land for even the lowliest of his race. On 
the ride hither he had felt as men do after a bloody 
battle, when the blast of trumpets proclaim victory. 
He had indeed a right to regard himself as the envoy 
of the Most High. 

Here, however, he interrupted himself ; for Miriam, 
who at first had listened with open ears and sparkling 
eyes, now showed a more and more anxious and 
troubled mien. When he at last spoke of making the 
people happy as her husband, she withdrew her hand, 
gazed timidly at his manly features, glowing with joy- 
ful excitement, £nd then as if striving to maintain her 
calmness, fixed her eyes upon the ground. 

Without suspecting what was passing in her mind, 
Hosea drew nearer. He supposed that her tongue 
was paralyzed by maidenly shame at the first token of 
favor she had bestowed upon a man. But when at his 
last words, designating himself as the true messenger 
of God, she shook her head disapprovingly, he burst 
forth again, almost incapable of self-control in his sore 
disappointment : 

“ So you believe that the Lord has protected me by 
a miracle from the wrath of the mightiest sovereign, 
and permitted me to obtain from his powerful hand 
favors for my people, such as the stronger never grant 
to the weaker, simply to trifle with the joyous confi- 
dence of a man whom he Himself summoned to serve 
Him.” 

Miriam, struggling to force back her tears, answered 
in a hollow tone : “ The stronger to the weaker ! If 

34 


i6o 


JOSHUA. 


that is your opinion, you compel me to ask, in the 
words of your own father : ‘ Who is the more powerful, 
the Lord our God or the weakling on the throne, whose 
first-born son withered like grass at a sign from the 
Most High. Oh, Hosea ! Hosea !’ ” 

“ Joshua !” he interrupted fiercely. “ Do you grudge 
me even the name your God bestowed ? I relied upon 
His help when I entered the palace of the mighty king. 
1 sought under God’s guidance rescue and salvation 
for the people, and I found them. But you, you ....’’ 

“ Your father and Moses, nay, all the believing 
heads of the tribes, see no salvation for us among the 
Egyptians,” she answered, panting for breath. “ What 
they promise the Hebrews will be their ruin. The 
grass sowed by us withers where their feet touch it ! 
And you, whose honest heart they deceive, are the 
whistler whom the bird-catcher uses to decoy his 
feathered victims into the snare. They put the ham- 
mer into your hand to rivet more firmly than before the 
chains which, with God’s aid, we have sundered. Be- 
fore my mind’s eye I perceive . . . .” 

“ Too much !” replied the warrior, grinding his teeth 
with rage. “ Hate dims your clear intellect. If the 
bird-catcher really — what was your comparison — if 
the bird-catcher really made me his whistler, deceived 
and misled me, he might learn from you, ay, from you ! 
Encouraged by you, I relied upon your love and faith. 
From you I hoped all things — and where is this love? 
As you spared me nothing that could cause me pain, I 
will, pitiless to myself, confess the whole truth to you. 
It was not alone because the God of my fathers called me, 
but because His summons reached me through you and 
my father that I came. You yearn for a land in the 


JOSHUA. 


161 


far uncertain distance, which the Lord has promised 
you ; but I opened to the people the door of a new 
and sure home. Not for their sakes — what hitherto 
have they been to me ? — but first of all to live there 
in happiness with you whom I loved, and my old 
father. Yet you, whose cold heart knows naught of 
love, with my kiss still on your lips, disdain what I 
offer, from hatred of the hand to which I owe it. 
Your life, your conflicts have made you masculine. 
What other women would trample the highest blessings 
under foot ?” 

Miriam could bear no more and, sobbing aloud, 
covered her convulsed face with her hands. 

At the grey light of dawn the sleepers in the camp 
began to stir, and men and maid servants came out of 
the dwellings of Amminadab and Naashon. All whom 
the morning had roused were moving toward the wells 
and watering places, but she did not see them. 

How her heart had expanded and rejoiced when 
her lover exclaimed that he had come to lead them to 
the land which the Lord had promised to his people. 
Gladly had she rested on his breast to enjoy one brief 
moment of the greatest bliss ; but how quickly had 
bitter disappointment expelled joy ! While the morn- 
ing breeze had stirred the crown of the sycamore and 
Joshua had told her what Pharaoh would grant to the 
Hebrews, the rustling among the branches had seemed 
to her like the voice of God’s wrath and she fancied 
she again heard the angry words of hoary-headed Nun. 
The latter’s reproaches had dismayed Uri like the flash 
of lightning, the roll of thunder, yet how did Joshua’s 
proposition differ from Uri’s ? 

The people — she had heard it also from the lips of 


162 


JOSHUA. 


Moses — were lost if, faithless to their God, they 
yielded to the temptations of Pharaoh. To wed a 
man who came to destroy all for which she, her 
brothers, and his own father lived and labored, was 
base treachery. Yet she loved Joshua and, instead of 
harshly repulsing him, she would have again nestled 
ah, how gladly, to the heart which she knew loved her 
so ardently. 

But the leaves in the top of the tree continued to 
rustle and it seemed as if they reminded her of Aaron’s 
warning, so she forced herself to remain firm. 

The whispering above came from God, who had 
chosen her for His prophetess, and when Joshua, in 
passionate excitement, owned that the longing for her 
was' his principal motive for toiling for the people, who 
were as unknown to him as they were dear to her, her 
heart suddenly seemed to stop beating and, in her 
mortal agony, she could not help sobbing aloud. 

Unheeding Joshua, or the stir in the camp, she 
again flung herself down with uplifted arms under the 
sycamore, gazing upward with dilated, tearful eyes, as 
if expecting a new revelation. But the morning breeze 
continued to rustle in the summit of the tree, and sud- 
denly everything seemed as bright as sunshine, not 
only within but around her, as always happened when 
she, the prophetess, was to behold a vision. And in 
this light she saw a figure whose face startled her, not 
Joshua, but another to whom her heart did not incline. 
Yet there he stood before the eyes of her soul in all his 
stately height, surrounded by radiance, and with a 
solemn gesture he laid his hand on the stones he had 
piled up. 

With quickened breath, she gazed upward to the 


JOSHUA. 


163 

face, yet she would gladly have closed her eyes and 
lost her hearing, that she might neither see it nor catch 
the voices from the tree. But suddenly the figure 
vanished, the voices died away, and she appeared to 
behold in a bright, fiery glow, the first man her virgin 
lips had kissed, as with uplifted sword, leading the 
shepherds of her people, he dashed toward an invisible 
foe. 

Swiftly as the going and coming of a flash of light- 
ning, the vision appeared and vanished, yet ere it had 
wholly disappeared she knew its meaning. 

The man whom she called ‘‘Joshua” and who 
seemed fitted in every respect to be the shield and 
leader of his people, must not be turned aside by love 
from the lofty duty to which the Most High had sum- 
moned him. None of the people must learn the mes- 
sage he brought, lest it should tempt them to turn aside 
from the dangerous path they had entered. 

Her course was as plain as the vision which had 
just vanished. And, as if the Most High desired to 
show her that she had rightly understood its meaning, 
Hur’s voice was heard near the sycamore — ere she 
had risen to prepare her lover for the sorrow to which 
she must condemn herself and him — commanding the 
multitude flocking from all directions to prepare for the 
departure. 

The way to save him from himself lay before her ; 
but Joshua had not yet ventured to disturb her de- 
votions. 

He had been wounded and angered to the inmost 
depths of his soul by her denial. But as he gazed 
down at her and saw her tall figure shaken by a sudden 
chill, and her eyes and hands raised heavenward as 


6 4 


JOSHUA. 


though, spell-bound, he had felt that something grand 
and sacred dwelt within her breast which it would be 
sacrilege to disturb ; nay, he had been unable to resist 
the feeling that it' would be presumptuous to seek to 
wed a woman united to the Lord by so close a tie. It 
must be bliss indeed to call this exalted creature his 
own, yet it would be hard to see her place another, 
even though it were the Almighty Himself, so far above 
her lover and husband. 

Men and cattle had already passed close by the 
sycamore and just as he was in the act of calling 
Miriam and pointing to the approaching throng, she 
rose, turned toward him, and forced from her troubled 
breast the words : 

“ I have communed with the Lord, Joshua, and 
now know His will. Do you remember the words by 
which God called you ?” 

He bent his head in assent ; but she went on : 

“Well then, you must also know what the Most 
High confided to your father, to Moses, and to me. 
He desires to lead us out of the land of Egypt, to a 
distant country where neither Pharaoh nor his viceroy 
shall rule over us, and He alone shall be our king. 
That is His will, and if He requires you to serve Him, 
you must follow us and, in case of war, command the 
men of our people.” 

Joshua struck his broad breast, exclaiming in vio- 
lent agitation : “ An oath binds me to return to Tanis 
to inform Pharaoh how the leaders of the people re- 
ceived the message with which I was sent forth. 
Though my heart should break, I cannot perjure 
myself.” 

“ And mine shall break,” gasped Miriam, “ ere / 


JOSHUA. 


i6 5 

will be disloyal to the Lord our God. We have both 
chosen, so let what once united us be sundered before 
these stones.” 

He rushed frantically toward her to seize her hand ; 
but with an imperious gesture she waved him back, 
turned away, and went toward the multitude which, 
with sheep and cattle, were pressing around the wells. 

Old and young respectfully made way for her as, 
with haughty bearing, she approached Hur, who was 
giving orders to the shepherds ; but he came forward to 
meet her and, after hearing the promise she whispered, 
he laid his hand upon her head and said with solemn 
earnestness : 

“ Then may the Lord bless our alliance.” 

Hand in hand with the grey -haired man to whom 
she had given herself, Miriam approached Joshua. 
Nothing betrayed the deep emotion of her soul, save 
the rapid rise and fall of her bosom, for though her 
cheeks were pale, her eyes were tearless and her bear- 
ing was as erect as ever. 

She left to Hur to explain to the lover whom she had 
forever resigned what she had granted him, and when 
Joshua heard it, he started back as though a gulf 
yawned at his feet. 

His lips were bloodless as he stared at the un- 
equally matched pair. A jeering laugh seemed the 
only fitting answer to such a surprise; but Miriam’s 
grave face helped him to repress it and conceal the 
tumult of his soul by trivial words. 

But he felt that he could not long succeed in main- 
taining a successful display of indifference, so he took 
leave of Miriam. He must greet his father, he said 
hastily, and induce him to summon the elders. 


66 


JOSHUA. 


Ere he finished several shepherds hurried up, dis- 
puting wrathfully and appealed to Hur to decide what 
place in the procession belonged to each tribe. He 
followed them, and as soon as Miriam found herself 
alone with Joshua, she said softly, yet earnestly, with 
beseeching eyes : 

“ A hasty deed was needful to sever the tie that 
bound us, but a loftier hope unites us. As I sacrificed 
what was dearest to my heart to remain faithful to my 
God and people, do you, too, renounce everything to 
which your soul clings. Obey the Most High, who 
called you Joshua! This hour transformed the sweet- 
est joy to bitter grief ; may it be the salvation of our 
people! Remain a son of the race which gave you 
your father and mother! Be what the Lord called 
you to become, a leader of your race ! If you 
insist on fulfilling your oath to Pharaoh, and tell the 
elders the promises with which you came, you will win 
them over, I know. Few will resist you, but of those 
few the first will surely be your own father. I can 
hear him raise his voice loudly and angrily against his 
own dear son; but if you close your ears even to his 
warning, the people will follow your summons instead 
of God’s, and you will rule the Hebrews as a mighty 
man. But when the time comes that the Egyptian 
casts his promises to the winds, when you see your 
people in still worse bondage than before and behold 
them turn from the God of their fathers to again worship 
animal-headed idols, your father’s curse will overtake 
you, the wrath of the Most High will strike the blinded 
man, and despair will be the lot of him who led to 
ruin the weak masses for whose shield the Most High 
chose him. So I, a feeble woman, yet the servant of 


JOSHUA. 


167 

the Most High and the maiden who was dearer to you 
than life, cry in tones of warning : Fear your father’s 
curse and the punishment of the Lord! Beware of 
tempting the people.” 

Here she was interrupted by a female slave, who 
summoned her to her house — and she added in low, 
hurried accents : “ Only this one thing more. If you 
do not desire to be weaker than the woman whose op- 
position roused your wrath, sacrifice your own wishes 
for the welfare of yonder thousands, who are of the 
same blood ! With your hand on these stones you 
must swear . . . .” 

But here her voice failed. Her hands groped vainly 
for some support, and with a loud cry she sank on her 
knees beside Hur’s token. 

Joshua’s strong arms saved her from falling prostrate, 
and several women who hurried up at his shout soon re- 
called the fainting maiden to life. 

Her eyes wandered restlessly from one to another, 
and not until her glance rested on Joshua’s anxious 
face did she become conscious where she was and what 
she had done. Then she hurriedly drank the water a 
shepherd’s wife handed to her, wiped the tears from 
her eyes, sighed painfully, and with a faint smile whis- 
pered to Joshua : “ I am but a weak woman after all.” 

Then she walked toward the house, but after the 
first few steps turned, beckoned to the warrior, and said 
softly : 

“ You see how they are forming into ranks. They 
will soon begin to move. Is your resolution still un- 
shaken ? There is still time to call the elders.” 

He shook his head, and as he met her tearful, 
grateful glance, answered gently : 


JOSHUA. 


1 68 


“ I shall remember these stones and this hour, 
wife of Hur. Greet my father for me and tell him that 
1 love him. Repeat to him also the name by which his 
son, according to the command of the Most High, will 
henceforth be called, that its promise of Jehovah’s aid 
may give him him confidence when he hears whither I 
am going to keep the oath I have sworn.” 

With these words he waved his hand to Miriam and 
turned toward the camp, where his horse had been fed 
and watered ; but she called after him : “ Only one 

last word : Moses left a message for you in the hollow 
trunk of the tree.” 

Joshua turned back to the sycamore and read what 
the man of God had written for him. “ Be strong and 
steadfast ” were the brief contents, and raising his head 
he joyfully exclaimed : “ Those words are balm to my 
soul. We meet here for the last time, wife of Hur, and, 
if I go to my death, be sure that I shall know how to 
die strong and steadfast ; but show my old father what 
kindness you can.” 

He swung himself upon his horse and while trotting 
toward Tanis, faithful to his oath, his soul was free from 
fear, though he did not conceal from himself that lie 
was going to meet great perils. His fairest hopes were 
destroyed, yet deep grief struggled with glad exaltation. 
A new and lofty emotion, which pervaded his whole 
being, had waked within him and was but slightly dim- 
med, though he had experienced a sorrow bitter enough 
to darken the light of any other man’s existence. 
Naught could surpass the noble objects to which he in- 
tended to devote his blood and life — his God and his 
people. He perceived with amazement this new feeling 


JOSHUA. 169 

which had power to thrust far into the background 
every other emotion of his breast — even love. 

True, his head often drooped sorrowfully when he 
thought of his old father ; but he had done right in re- 
pressing the eager yearning to clasp him to his heart. 
The old man would scarcely have understood his 
motives, and it was better for both to part without see- 
ing each other rather than in open strife. 

Often it seemed as though his experiences had been 
but a dream, and while he felt bewildered by the 
excitements of the last few hours, his strong frame 
was little wearied by the fatigues he had under- 
gone. 

At a well-known hostelry on the road, where he met 
many soldiers and among them several military com- 
manders with whom he was well acquainted, he at last 
allowed his horse and himself a little rest and food ; and 
as he rode on refreshed active life asserted its claims ; 
for as far as the gate of the city of Rameses he passed 
bands of soldiers, and learned that they were ordered 
to join the cohorts he had himself brought from 
Libya. 

At last he rode into the capital and as he passed the 
temple of Amon he heard loud lamentations, though he 
had learned on the way that the plague had ceased. 
What many a sign told him was confirmed at last by 
some passing guards — the first prophet and high-priest 
of Amon, the grey-haired Rui, had died in the ninety- 
eighth year of his life. Bai, the second prophet, who 
had so warmly protested his friendship and gratitude 
to Hosea, had now become Rui's successor and was 
high-priest and judge, keeper of the seals and treas- 
urer, in short, the most powerful man in the realm. 


JOSHUA. 


170 


CHAPTER XVII. 

“ Help of Jehovah !” murmured a state-prisoner, 
laden with heavy chains, five days later, smiling bitterly 
as, with forty companions in misfortune, he was led 
through the gate of victory in Tanis toward the east. 

The mines in the Sinai peninsula, where more con- 
vict labor was needed, were the goal of these unfor 
tunate men. 

The prisoner’s smile lingered a short time, then 
drawing up his muscular frame, his bearded lips mur- 
mured : “ Strong and steadfast !” and as if he desired 

to transmit the support he had himself found he 
whispered to the youth marching at his side : “ Courage, 
Ephraim, courage ! Don’t gaze down at the dust, but 
upward, whatever may come.” 

“ Silence in the ranks !” shouted one of the armed 
Libyan guards, who accompanied the convicts, to the 
older prisoner, raising his whip with a significant 
gesture. The man thus threatened was Joshua, and his 
companion in suffering Ephraim, who had been sentenc- 
ed to share his fate. 

What this was every child in Egypt knew, for “ May 
I be sent to the mines !” was one of the most terrible 
oaths of the common people, and no prisoner’s lot was 
half so hard as that of the convicted state-criminals. 

A series of the most terrible humiliations and 
tortures awaited them. The vigor of the robust was 
broken by unmitigated toil ; the exhausted were 
forced to execute tasks so far beyond their strength 


JOSHUA. 


171 

that they soon found the eternal rest for which their 
tortured souls longed. To be sent to the mines meant 
to be doomed to a slow, torturing death ; yet life is so 
dear to men that it was considered a milder punish- 
ment to be dragged to forced labor in the mines than 
to be delivered up to the executioner. 

Joshua’s encouraging words had little effect upon 
Ephraim ; but when, a few minutes later, a chariot 
shaded by an umbrella, passed the prisoners, a chariot 
in which a slender woman of aristocratic bearing stood 
beside a matron behind the driver, he turned with a 
hasty movement and gazed after the equipage with 
sparkling eyes till it vanished in the dust of the road. 

The younger woman had been closely veiled, but 
Ephraim thought he recognized her for whose sake he 
had gone to his ruin, and whose lightest sign he 
would still have obeyed. 

And he was right; the lady in the chariot was 
Kasana, the daughter of Hornecht, captain of the 
archers, and the matron was her nurse. 

At a little temple by the road-side, where, in the 
midst of a grove of Nile acacias, a well was main- 
tained for travellers, she bade the matron wait for her 
and, springing lightly from the chariot which had left 
the prisoners some distance behind, she began to pace 
up and down with drooping head in the shadow of the 
trees, until the whirling clouds of dust announced the 
approach of the convicts. 

Taking from her robe the gold rings she had ready 
for this purpose, she went to the man who was riding at 
its head on an ass and who led the mournful procession. 
While she was talking with him and pointing to Joshua, 
the guard cast a sly glance at the rings which had been 


172 


JOSHUA. 


slipped into his hand, and seeing a welcome yellow 
glitter when his modesty had expected only silver, his 
features instantly assumed an expression of obliging 
good-will. 

True, his face darkened at Kasana’s request, but 
another promise from the young widow brightened it 
again, and he now turned eagerly to his subordinates, 
exclaiming : “To the well with the moles, men ! Let 
them drink. They must be fresh and healthy under 
the ground !” 

Then riding up to the prisoners, he shouted to 
J oshua : 

“ You once commanded many soldiers, and look 
more stiff-necked now than beseems you and me. 
Watch the others, guards, I have a word or two to say 
to this man alone.” 

He clapped his hands as if he were driving hens 
out of a garden, and while the prisoners took pails and 
with the guards, enjoyed the refreshing drink, their 
leader drew Joshua and Ephraim away from the road 
— they could not be separated on account of the 
chain which bound their ancles together. 

The little temple soon hid them from the eyes of 
the others, and the warder sat down on a step some 
distance off, first showing the two Hebrews, with a 
gesture whose meaning was easily understood, the 
heavy spear he carried in his hand and the hounds 
which lay at his feet. 

He kept his eyes open, too, during the conversation 
that followed. They could say whatever they chose ; 
he knew the duties of his office and though, for the sake 
of good money he could wink at a farewell, for twenty 
years, though there had been many attempts to escape, 


JOSHUA. 


*73 


not one of his moles — a name he was fond of giving 
to the future miners — had succeeded in eluding his 
watchfulness. 

Yonder fair lady doubtless loved the stately man 
who, he had been told, was formerly a chief in the 
army. But he had already numbered among his “ moles,” 
personages even more distinguished, and if the veiled 
woman managed to slip files or gold into the prisoner’s 
hands, he would not object, for that very evening 
the persons of both would be thoroughly searched, even 
the youth’s black locks, which would not have re- 
mained unshorn, had not everything been in confusion 
prior to the departure of the convicts, which took place 
just before the march of Pharaoh’s army. 

The watcher could not hear the whispered words 
exchanged between the degraded chief and the lady, 
but her humble manner and bearing led him to suppose 
that it was she who had brought the proud warrior to 
his ruin. Ah, these women ! And the fettered youth ! 
The looks he fixed upon the slender figure were ardent 
enough to scorch her veil. But patience! Mighty 
Father Amon ! His moles were going to a school 
where people learned modesty ! 

Now the lady had removed her veil. She was a 
beautiful woman ! It must be hard to part from such 
a sweetheart. And now she was weeping. 

The rude warder’s heart grew as soft as his office 
permitted ; but he would fain have raised his scourge 
against the older prisoner ; for was it not a shame to 
have such a sweetheart and stand there like a stone ? 

At first the wretch did not even hold out his hand 
to the woman who evidently loved him, while he, the 


i74 


JOSHUA. 


watcher, would gladly have witnessed both a kiss and 
an embrace. 

Or was this beauty the prisoner’s wife who had be- 
trayed him? No, no! How kindly he was now 
gazing at her. That was the manner of a father speak- 
ing to his child ; but his mole was probably too young 
to have such a daughter. A mystery ! But he felt no 
anxiety concerning its solution ; during the march he 
had the power to make the most reserved convict an 
open book. 

Yet not only the rude gaoler, but anyone would 
have marvelled what had brought this beautiful, aristo- 
cratic woman, in the grey light of dawn, out on the. 
highway to meet the hapless man loaded with chains. 

In sooth, nothing would have induced Kasana to 
take this step save the torturing dread of being scorned 
and execrated as a base traitress by the man whom she 
loved. A terrible destiny awaited him, and her vivid 
imagination had shown her Joshua in the mines, 
languishing, disheartened, drooping, dying, always with 
a curse upon her on his lips. 

On the evening of the day Ephraim had been 
brought to the house, shivering with the chill caused by 
burning fever, and half stifled with the dust of the 
road, her father had told her that in the youthful He- 
brew they possessed a hostage to compel Hosea to 
return to Tanis and submit to the wishes of the prophet 
Bai, with whom she knew her father was leagued in a 
secret conspiracy. He also confided to her that 
not only great distinction and high offices, but a mar- 
riage with herself had been arrranged to bind Hosea 
to the Egyptians and to a cause from which the chief of 


JOSHUA. 175 

the archers expected the greatest blessings for himself, 
his house, and his whole country. 

These tidings had filled her heart with joyous hope 
of a long desired happiness, and she confessed it to the 
prisoner with drooping head amid floods of tears, by 
the little wayside temple ; for he was now forever lost 
to her, and though he did not return the love she had 
lavished on him from his childhood, he must not hate 
and condemn her without having heard her story. 

Joshua listened willingly and assured her that noth- 
ing would lighten his heart more than to have her clear 
herself from the charge of having consigned him and 
the youth at his side to their most terrible fate. 

Kasana sobbed aloud and was forced to struggle 
hard for composure ere she succeeded in telling her 
tale with some degree of calmness. 

Shortly after Hosea’s departure the chief-priest died 
and, on the same day Bai, the second prophet, became 
his successor. Many changes now took place, and the 
most powerful man in the kingdom filled Pharaoh with 
hatred of the Hebrews and their leader, Mesu, whom 
he and the queen had hitherto protected and feared. 
He had even persuaded the monarch to pursue the 
fugitives, and an army had been instantly summoned 
to compel their return. Kasana had feared that Hosea 
could not be induced to fight against the men of his 
own blood, and that he must feel incensed at being sent 
to make treaties which the Egyptians began to violate 
even before they knew whether their offers had been 
accepted. 

When he returned — as he knew only too well — 
Pharaoh had had him watched like a prisoner and would 
not suffer him to leave his presence until he had sworn 
35 


176 


JOSHUA. 


to again lead his troops and be a faithful servant to the 
king. Bai, the new chief priest, however, had not 
forgotten that Hosea had saved his life and showed 
himself well disposed and grateful to him; she knew 
also that he hoped to involve him in a secret enter- 
prise, with which her father, too, was associated. It 
was Bai who had prevailed upon Pharaoh, if Hosea 
would renew his oath of fealty, to absolve him from 
fighting against his own race, put him in command of 
the foreign mercenaries and raise him to the rank of a 
“ friend of the king.” All these events, of course, were 
familiar to him ; for the new chief priest had himself set 
before him the tempting dishes which, with such strong, 
manly defiance, he had thrust aside. 

Her father had also sided with him, and for the 
first time ceased to reproach him with his origin. 

But, on the third day after Hosea’s return, Hor- 
necht had gone to talk with him and since then every- 
thing had changed for the worse. He must be best 
aware what had caused the man of whom she, his 
daughter, must think no evil, to be changed from a 
friend to a mortal foe. 

She had looked enquiringly at him as she spoke, 
and he did not refuse to answer — Hornecht had told 
him that he would be a welcome son-in-law. 

“ And you ?” asked Kasana, gazing anxiously into 
his face. 

“ I,” replied the prisoner, “ was forced to say that 
though you had been dear and precious to me from 
your childhood, many causes forbade me to unite a 
woman’s fate to mine.” 

Kasana’s eyes flashed, and she exclaimed : 


JOSHUA. 


*77 


“ Because you love another, a woman of your own 
people, the one who sent Ephraim to you !” 

But Joshua shook his head and answered pleas- 
antly : 

“You are wrong, Kasana! She of whom you 
speak is the wife of another.” 

“ Then,” cried the young widow with fresh anima- 
tion, gazing at him with loving entreaty, “ why were 
you compelled to rebuff my father so harshly ?” 

“ That was far from my intention, dear child,” he 
replied warmly, laying his hand on her head. “I 
thought of you with all the tenderness of which my 
nature is capable. If I could not fulfil his wish, it was 
because grave necessity forbids me to yearn for the 
peaceful happiness by my own hearth-stone for which 
others strive. Had they given me my liberty, my life 
would have been one of restlessness and conflict.” 

“Yet how many bear sword and shield,” replied 
Kasana, “ and still, on their return, rejoice in the love 
of their wives and the dear ones sheltered beneath their 
roof.” 

“ True, true,” he answered gravely ; “ but special 
duties, unknown to the Egyptians, summon me. I am 
a son of my people.” 

“ And you intend to serve them ?” asked Kasana. 
“ Oh, I understand you. Yet. . . . why then did you 
return to Tanis ? Why did you put yourself into 
Pharaoh's power ?” 

“ Because a sacred oath compelled me, poor child,” 
he answered kindly. 

“An oath,” she cried, “which places death and im- 
prisonment between you and those whom you love and 
still desire to serve. Oh, would that you had never 


1 7 8 


JOSHUA. 


returned to this abode of injustice, treachery, and in- 
gratitude! To how many hearts this vow will bring 
grief and tears ! But what do you men care for the 
suffering you inflict on others? You have spoiled all 
the pleasure of life for my hapless self, and among your 
own people dwells a noble father whose only son you 
are. How often I have seen the dear old man, the 
stately figure with sparkling eyes and snow-white hair. 
So would you look when you, too, had reached a ripe 
old age, as I said to myself, when I met him at the 
harbor, or in the fore-court of the palace, directing the 
shepherds who were driving the cattle and fleecy sheep 
to the tax-receiver’s table. And now his son’s ob- 
stinacy must embitter every day of his old age.” 

“Now,” replied Joshua, “he has a son who is 
going, laden with chains, to endure a life of misery, 
but who can hold his head higher than those who be- 
trayed him. They, and Pharaoh at their head, have 
forgotten that he has shed his heart’s blood for them 
on many a battlefield, and kept faith with the king at 
every peril. Menephtah, his vice-roy and chief, whose 
life I saved, and many who formerly called me friend, 
have abandoned and hurled me and this guiltless boy 
into wretchedness, but those who have done this, 
woman, who have committed this crime, may they 
all ” 

“ Do not curse them !” interrupted Kasana with 
glowing cheeks. 

But Joshua, unheeding her entreaty, exclaimed : 

“ Should I be a man, if I forgot vengeance ?” 

The young widow clung anxiously to his arm, gasp- 
ing in beseeching accents : 

“ How could you forgive him ? Only you must 


JOSHUA. 


*79 


not curse him ; for my father became your foe through 
love for me. You know his hot blood, which so easily 
carries him to extremes, despite his years. He con- 
cealed from me what he regarded as an insult ; for he 
saw many woo me, and I am his greatest treasure. 
Pharaoh can pardon rebels more easily than my father 
can forgive the man who disdained his jewel. He be- 
haved like one possessed when he returned. Every word 
he uttered was an invective. He could not endure to stay 
at home and raged just as furiously elsewhere. But no 
doubt he would have calmed himself at last, as he so 
often did before, had not some one who desired to pour 
oil on the flames met him in the fore-court of the 
palace. I learned all this from Bai’s wife; for she, 
too, repents what she did to injure you; her husband 
used every effort to save you. She, who is as brave as 
any man, was ready to aid him and open the door of 
your prison ; for she has not forgotten that you saved 
her husband’s life in Libya. Ephraim’s chains were to 
fall with yours, and everything was ready to aid your 
flight.” 

“ I know it,” Hosea interrupted gloomily, “ and I 
will thank the God of my fathers if those were wrong 
from whom I heard that you are to blame, Kasana, for 
having our dungeon door locked more firmly.” 

“Should I be here, if that were so!” cried the 
beautiful, grieving woman with impassioned eagerness. 
“True, resentment did stir within me as it does in 
every woman whose lover scorns her; but the misfor- 
tune that befell you speedily transformed resentment 
into compassion, and fanned the old flames anew. So 
surely as I hope for a mild judgment before the tri- 
bunal of the dead, I am innocent and have not ceased 


i8o 


JOSHUA. 


to hope for your liberation. Not until yesterday even- 
ing, when all was too late, did I learn that Bai’s pro- 
posal had been futile. The chief priest can do much, 
but he will not oppose the man who made himself my 
father’s ally.” 

“You mean Prince Siptah, Pharaoh’s nephew!” 
cried Joshua in excited tones. “They intimated to 
me the scheme they were weaving in his interest ; they 
wished to put me in the place of the Syrian Aarsu, the 
commander of the mercenaries, if I would consent to 
let them have their way with my people and desert 
those of my own blood. But I would rather die twenty 
deaths than sully myself with such treachery. Aarsu is 
better suited to carry out their dark plans, but he will 
finally betray them all. So far as I am concerned, the 
prince has good reason to hate me.” 

Kasana laid her hand upon his lips, pointed anx- 
iously to Ephraim and the guide, and said gently : 

“ Spare my father ! The prince — what roused his 
enmity . . . .” 

“ The profligate seeks to lure you into his snare and 
has learned that you favor me,” the warrior broke in. 

She bent her head with a gesture of assent, and 
added blushing : 

“ That is why Aarsu, whom he has won over to his 
cause, watches you so strictly.” 

“ And the Syrian will keep his eyes sufficiently wide 
open,” cried Joshua. “ Now let us talk no more of 
this. I believe you and thank you warmly for follow- 
ing us hapless mortals. How fondly I used to think, 
while serving in the field, of the pretty child, whom I 
saw blooming into maidenhood.” 


JOSHUA. 


181 


“ And you will think of her still with neither wrath 
nor rancor ?” 

“ Gladly, most gladly.” 

The young widow, with passionate emotion, seized 
the prisoner’s hand to raise it to her lips, but he with- 
drew it ; and, gazing at him with tears in her eyes, she 
said mournfully : 

“ You deny me the favor a benefactor does not refuse 
even to a beggar.” Then, suddenly drawing herself up to 
her full height, she exclaimed so loudly that the warder 
started and glanced at the sun : “ But I tell you the 

time will come when you will sue for the favor of kiss- 
ing this hand in gratitude. For when the messenger 
arrives bringing to you and to this youth the liberty for 
which you have longed, it will be Kasana to whom you 
owe it.” 

Rapt by the fervor of the wish that animated her, 
her beautiful face glowed with a crimson flush. Joshua 
seized her right hand, exclaiming : 

“ Ah, if you could attain what your loyal soul de- 
sires ! How could I dissuade you from mitigating the 
great misfortune which overtook this youth in your 
house ? Yet, as an honest man, I must tell you that I 
shall never return to the service of the Egyptians ; for, 
come what may, I shall in future cleave, body and soul, 
to those you persecute and despise, and to whom be- 
longed the mother who bore me.” 

Kasana’s graceful head drooped ; but directly after 
she raised it again, saying : 

“ No other man is so noble, so truthful, that I have 
known from my childhood. If I can find no one among 
my own nation whom I can honor, I will remember 
you, whose every thought is true and lofty, whose nature 


182 


JOSHUA. 


is faultless. But if poor Kasana succeeds in liberating 
you, do not scorn her, if you find her worse than when 
you left her, for however she may humiliate herself, 
whatever shame may come upon her . . . 

“ What do you intend ?” Hosea anxiously interrupt- 
ed ; but she had no time to answer ; for the captain of 
the guard had risen and, clapping his hands, shouted 
“ Forward, you moles !” and “ Step briskly.” 

The warrior’s stout heart was overwhelmed with 
tender sadness and, obeying a hasty impulse, he 
kissed the beautiful unhappy woman on the brow and 
hair, whispering : 

“ Leave me in my misery, if our freedom will cost your 
humiliation. We shall probably never meet again ; for, 
whatever may happen, my life will henceforth be nothing 
but battle and sacrifice. Darkness will shroud us in 
deeper and deeper gloom, but however black the night 
may be, one star will still shine for this boy and for me 
— the remembrance of you, my faithful, beloved child.” 

He pointed to Ephraim as he spoke and the youth, 
as if out of his senses, pressed his lips on the hand and 
arm of the sobbing woman. 

“ Forward !” shouted the leader again, and with a 
grateful smile helped the generous lady into the chariot, 
marvelling at the happy, radiant gaze with which her 
tearful eyes followed the convicts. 

The horses started, fresh shouts arose, blows from 
the whips fell on bare shoulders, now and then a cry of 
pain rang on the morning air, and the train of prisoners 
again moved eastward. The chain on the ancles of 
the companions in suffering stirred the dust, which 
shrouded the little band like the grief, hate, and fear 
darkening the soul of each. 


JOSHUA. 


i8 3 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

A long hour’s walk beyond the little temple where 
the prisoners had rested the road, leading to Succoth 
and the western arm of the Red Sea, branched off 
from the one that ran in a southeasterly direction past 
the fortifications on the isthmus to the mines. 

Shortly after the departure of the prisoners, the army 
which had been gathered to pursue the Hebrews left 
the city of Rameses, and as the convicts had rested 
some time at the well, the troops almost overtook them. 
They had not proceeded far when several runners came 
hurrying up to clear the road for the advancing army. 
They ordered the prisoners to move aside and defer 
their march until the swifter baggage train, bearing 
Pharaoh’s tents and travelling equipments, whose 
chariot wheels could already be heard, had passed 
them. 

The prisoners’ guards were glad to stop, they were 
in no hurry. The day was hot, and if they reached 
their destination later, it would be the fault of the 
army. 

The interruption was welcome to Joshua, too ; for 
his young companion had been gazing into vacancy as 
if bewildered, and either made no answer to his ques- 
tions or gave such incoherent ones that the older man 
grew anxious; he knew how many of those sentenced 
to forced labor went mad or fell into melancholy. 
Now a portion of the army would pass them, and the 


184 


JOSHUA. 


spectacle was new to Ephraim and promised to put an 
end to his dull brooding. 

A sand-hill overgrown with tamarisk bushes rose 
beside the road, and thither the leader guided the party 
of convicts. He was a stern man, but not a cruel one, 
so he permitted his “ moles ” to lie down on the sand, 
for the troops would doubtless be a long time in passing. 

As soon as the convicts had thrown themselves on , 
the ground the rattle of wheels, the neighing of fiery 
steeds, shouts of command, and sometimes the dis- 
agreeable braying of an ass were heard. 

When the first chariots appeared Ephraim asked if 
Pharaoh was coming ; but Joshua, smiling, informed him 
that when the king accompanied the troops to the 
field, the camp equipage followed directly behind the 
vanguard, for Pharaoh and his dignitaries wished to 
find the tents pitched and the tables laid, when the day’s 
march was over and the soldiers and officers expected 
a night’s repose. 

Joshua had not finished speaking when a number of 
empty carts and unladen asses appeared. They were to 
carry the contributions of bread and meal, animals and 
poultry, wine and beer, levied on every village the 
sovereign passed on the march, and which had been 
delivered to the tax-gatherers the day before. 

Soon after a division of chariot warriors followed. 
Every pair of horses drew a small, two-wheeled chariot, 
cased in bronze, and in each stood a warrior and the 
driver of the team. Huge quivers were fastened to 
the front of the chariots, and the soldiers leaned on 
their lances or on gigantic bows. Shirts covered with 
brazen scales, or padded coats of mail with gay over- 
mantle, a helmet, and the front of the chariot protected 


JOSHUA. 


185 

the warrior from the missiles of the foe. This troop, 
which Joshua said was the van, went by at a slow trot 
and was followed by a great number of carts and 
wagons, drawn by horses, mules, or oxen, as well as 
whole troops of heavily-laden asses. 

The uncle now pointed out to his nephew the long 
masts, poles, and heavy rolls of costly stuffs intended 
for the royal tent, and borne by numerous beasts of 
burden, as well as the asses and carts with the kitchen 
utensils and field forges. Among the baggage heaped 
on the asses, which were followed by nimble drivers, 
rode the physicians, tailors, salve-makers, cooks, weavers 
of garlands, attendants, and slaves belonging to the 
camp. Their departure had been so recent that they 
were still fresh and inclined to jest, and whoever caught 
sight of the convicts, flung them, in the Egyptian 
fashion, a caustic quip which many sought to palliate 
by the gift of alms. Others, who said nothing, also 
sent by the ass-drivers fruit and trifling gifts ; for those 
who were free to-day might share the fate of these hap- 
less men to-morrow. The captain permitted it, and 
when a passing slave, whom Joshua had sold for 
thieving, shouted the name of Hosea, pointing to him 
with a malicious gesture, the rough but kind-hearted 
officer offered his insulted prisoner a sip of wine from his 
own flask. 

Ephraim, who had walked from Succoth to Tanis 
with a staff in his hand, and a small bundle containing 
bread, dried lamb, radishes, and dates, expressed his 
amazement at the countless people and things a single 
man needed for his comfort, and then relapsed into 
his former melancholy until his uncle roused him with 
farther explanations. 


JOSHUA. 


186 


As soon as the baggage train had passed, the com- 
mander of the band of prisoners wished to set off, but 
the “ openers of the way,” who preceded the archers, 
forbade him, because it was not seemly for convicts to 
mingle with soldiers. So they remained on their hil- 
lock and continued to watch the troops. 

The archers were followed by heavily-armed troops, 
bearing shields covered with strong hide so large that 
they extended from the feet to above the middle of the 
tallest men, and Hosea now told the youth that in the 
evening they set them side by side, thus surrounding 
the royal tent like a fence. Besides this weapon of 
defence they carried a lance, a short dagger-like sword, 
or a battle-sickle, and as these thousands were succeed- 
ed by a body of men armed with slings Ephraim for 
the first time spoke without being questioned and said 
that the slings the shepherds had taught him to make 
were far better than those of the soldiers and, en- 
couraged by his uncle, he described in language so 
eager that the prisoners lying by his side listened, how 
he had succeeded in slaying not only jackals, wolves,- 
and panthers, but even vultures, with stones hurled from 
a sling. Meanwhile he interrupted himself to ask the 
meaning of the standards and the names of the separate 
divisions. 

Many thousands had already passed, when another 
troop of warriors in chariots appeared, 'and the chief 
warder of the prisoners exclaimed : 

“ The good god ! The lord of two worlds ! May 
life, happiness, and health be his !” With these words 
he fell upon his knees in the attitude of worship, while 
the convicts prostrated themselves to kiss the earth and 
be ready to obey the captain’s bidding and join at the 


JOSHUa, 187 

right moment in the cry : “ Life, happiness, and 
health !” 

But they had a long time to wait ere the expected 
sovereign appeared; for, after the warriors in the 
chariots had passed, the body-guard followed, foot- 
soldiers of foreign birth with singular ornaments on 
their helmets and huge swords, and then numerous 
images of the gods, a large band of priests and 
wearers of plumes. They were followed by more 
body-guards, and then Pharaoh appeared with his 
attendants. At their head rode the chief priest Ba'i 
in a gilded battle-chariot drawn by magnificent bay 
stallions. He who had formerly led troops in the field, 
had assumed the command of this pursuing expedition 
ordered by the gods and, though clad in priestly robes, 
he also wore the helmet and battle-axe of a general. 
At last, directly behind his equipage, came Pharaoh 
himself; but he did not go to battle like his warlike 
predecessors in a war-chariot, but preferred to be 
carried on a throne. A magnificent canopy protected 
him above, and large, thick, round ostrich feather fans, 
carried by his fan-bearers, sheltered him on both sides 
from the scorching rays of the sun. 

After Menephtah had left the city and the gate of 
victory behind him, and the exulting acclamations of 
the multitude had ceased to amuse him, he had 
gone to sleep and the shading fans would have con- 
cealed his face and figure from the prisoners, had not 
their shouts been loud enough to rouse him and induce 
him to turn his head toward them. The gracious wave 
of his right hand showed that he had expected to see 
different people from convicts and, ere the shouts of the 
hapless men had died away, his eyes again closed. 


JOSHUA. 


1 88 


Ephraim’s silent brooding had now yielded to the 
deepest interest, and as the empty golden war-chariot of 
the king, before which pranced the most superb steeds 
he had ever seen, rolled by, he burst into loud ex- 
clamations of admiration. 

These noble animals, on whose intelligent heads 
large bunches of feathers nodded, and whose rich har- 
ness glittered with gold and gems, were indeed a 
splendid sight. The large gold quivers set with eme- 
ralds, fastened on the sides of the chariot, were filled 
with arrows. 

The feeble man to whose weak hand the guidance 
of a great nation was entrusted, the weakling who 
shrunk from every exertion, regained his lost energy 
whenever hunting was in prospect ; he considered this 
campaign a chase on the grandest scale and as it 
seemed royal pastime to discharge his arrows at the 
human beings he had so lately feared, instead of at 
game, he had obeyed the chief priest’s summons and' 
joined the expedition. It had been undertaken by the 
mandate of the great god Amon, so he had little to 
dread from Mesu’s terrible power. 

When he captured him he would make him atone 
for having caused Pharaoh and his queen to tremble 
before him and shed so many tears on his account. 

While Joshua was still telling the youth from which 
Phoenician city the golden chariots came, he suddenly 
felt Ephraim’s right hand clutch his wrist, and heard 
him exclaim : “ She ! She ! Look yonder ! It is she !” 

The youth had flushed crimson, and he was not 
mistaken ; the beautiful Kasana was passing amid 
Pharaoh’s train in the same chariot in which she had 
pursued the convicts, and with her came a considerable 


JOSHUA. 


189 


number of ladies who had joined what the commander 
of the foot-soldiers, a brave old warrior, who had served 
under the great Rameses, termed “ a pleasure party.” 

On campaigns through the desert and into Syria, 
Libya, or . Ethiopia the sovereign was accompanied 
only by a chosen band of concubines in curtained 
chariots, guarded by eunuchs ; but this time, though the 
queen had remained at home, the wife of the chief 
priest Bai and other aristocratic ladies had set the ex- 
ample of joining the troops, and it was doubtless tempt- 
ing enough to many to enjoy the excitements of war 
without peril. 

Kasana had surprised her friend by her appearance 
an hour before ; only yesterday the young widow could 
not be persuaded to accompany the troops. Obeying 
an inspiration, without consulting her father, so unpre- 
pared that she lacked the necessary traveling equip- 
ments, she had joined the expedition, and it seemed as 
if a man whom she had hitherto avoided, though he 
was no less a personage than Siptah, the king’s nephew, 
had become a magnet to her. 

When she passed the prisoners, the prince was 
standing in the chariot beside the young beauty in her 
nurse’s place, explaining in jesting tones the significance 
of the flowers in a bouquet, which Kasana declared 
could not possibly have been intended for her, because 
an hour and a quarter before she had not thought of 
going with the army. 

But Siptah protested that the Hathors had revealed 
at sunrise the happiness in store for him, and that 
the choice of each single blossom proved his assertion. 

Several young courtiers who were walking in front 
of their chariots, surrounded them and joined in the 


190 


JOSHUA. 


laughter and merry conversation, in which the vivacious 
wife of the chief priest shared, having left her large 
travelling-chariot to be carried in a litter. 

None of these things escaped Joshua’s notice and, 
as he saw Kasana, who a short time before had thought 
of the prince with aversion, now saucily tap his hand 
with her fan, his brow darkened and he asked himself 
whether the young widow was not carelessly trifling 
with his misery. 

But the prisoners’ chief warder had now noticed the 
locks on Siptah’s temples, which marked him as a prince 
of the royal household and his loud •* Hail ! Hail !” in 
which the other guards and the captives joined, was 
heard by Kasana and her companions. They looked 
toward the tamarisk-bushes, whence the cry proceeded, 
and Joshua saw the young widow turn pale and then 
point with a hasty gesture to the convicts. She must 
undoubtedly have given Siptah some command, for the 
latter at first shrugged his shoulders disapprovingly 
then, after a somewhat lengthy discussion, half grave, 
half jesting, he sprang from the chariot and beckoned 
to the chief gaoler. 

“ Have these men,” he called from the road so 
loudly that Kasana could not fail to hear, “seen the 
face of the good god, the lord of both worlds ?” And 
when he received a reluctant answer, he went on arro- 
gantly : 

“No matter! At least they beheld mine and that 
of the fairest of women, and if they hope for favor on 
that account they are right. You know who I am. 
Let the chains that bind them together be removed.” 

Then, beckoning to the man, he whispered : 

“ But keep your eyes open all the wider ; I have no 


jOSHUA. 


I 9 I 

liking for the fellow beside the bush, the ex-chief 
Hosea. After returning home, report to me and bring 
news of this man. The quieter he has become, the 
deeper my hand will sink in my purse. Do you 
understand ?” 

The warder bowed, thinking : “ I’ll take care, my 
prince, and also see that no one attempts to take the 
life of any of my moles. The greater the rank of these 
gentlemen, the more bloody and strange are their 
requests! How many have come to me with similar 
ones. He releases the poor wretches’ feet, and wants 
me to burden my soul with a shameful murder. Siptah 
has tried the wrong man ! Here, Heter, bring the bag 
of tools and open the moles’ chains.” 

While the files were grating on the sand-hill by the 
road and the prisoners were being released from the 
fetters on their ancles, — though for the sake of security 
each man’s arms were bound together, — Pharaoh’s 
host marched by. 

Kasana had commanded Prince Siptah to release 
from their iron burden the unfortunates who were being 
dragged to a life of misery, openly confessing that she 
could not bear to see a chief who had so often been a 
guest of her house so cruelly humiliated. Bai’s wife 
had supported her wish, and the prince was obliged to 
yield. 

Joshua knew to whom he and Ephraim owed this 
favor, and received it with grateful joy. 

Walking had been made easier for him, but his mind 
was more and more sorely oppressed with anxious 
cares. 

The army passing yonder would have been enough to 
destroy down to the last man a force ten times greater 
36 


192 


JOSHUA. 


than the number of his people. His people, and with 
them his father and Miriam, — who had caused him 
such keen suffering, yet to whom he was indebted for 
having found the way which, even in prison, he had 
recognized as the only right one — seemed to him 
marked out for a bloody doom ; for, however powerful 
might be the God whose greatness the prophetess had 
praised in such glowing words, and to whom he him- 
self had learned to look up with devout admiration, — 
untrained and unarmed bands of shepherds must surely 
and hopelessly succumb to the assault of this army. 
This certainty, strengthened by each advancing division, 
pierced his very soul. Never before had he felt such 
burning anguish, which was terribly sharpened when 
he beheld the familiar faces of his own troops, which 
he had so lately commanded, pass before him under 
the leadership of another. This time they were taking 
the field to hew down men of his own blood. This was 
pain indeed, and Ephraim’s conduct gave him cause 
for fresh anxiety ; since Kasana’s appearance and in- 
terference in behalf of him and his companions in 
suffering, the youth had again lapsed into silence and 
gazed with wandering eyes at the army or into vacancy. 

Now he, too, was freed from the chain, and Joshua 
asked in a whisper if he did not long to return to his 
people to help them resist so powerful a force, but 
Ephraim merely answered : 

“ When confronted with those hosts, they can do 
nothing but yield. What did we lack before the 
exodus? You were a Hebrew, and yet became a 
mighty chief among the Egyptians ere you obeyed 
Miriam’s summons. In your place, I would have pur- 
sued a different course.” 


JOSHUA. 


193 


“ What would you have done ?” asked Joshua 
sternly. 

“ What ?” replied the youth, the fire of his young 
soul blazing. “What ? Only this, I would have re- 
mained where there is honor and fame and everything 
beautiful. You might have been the greatest of the 
great, the happiest of the happy — this I have learned, 
but you made a different choice.” 

“ Because duty commanded it,” Joshua answered 
gravely, “ because I will no longer serve any one save 
the people among whom I was bom.” 

“ The people ?” exclaimed Ephraim, contemptu- 
ously. “ I know them, and you met them at Succoth. 
The poor are miserable wretches who cringe under the 
lash ; the rich value their cattle above all else and, if 
they are the heads of the tribes, quarrel with one another. 
No one knows aught of what pleases the eye and the 
heart. They call me one of the richest of the race and 
yet I shudder when I think of the house I inherited, 
one of the best and largest. One who has seen more 
beautiful ones ceases to long for such an abode.” 

The vein on Joshua’s brow swelled, and he wrath- 
fully rebuked the youth for denying his own blood, and 
being a traitor to his people. 

The guard commanded silence, for Joshua had 
raised his reproving voice louder, and this order seemed 
welcome to the defiant youth. When, during their 
march, his uncle looked sternly into his face or asked 
whether he had thought of his words, he turned angrily 
away, and remained mute and sullen until the first star 
had risen, the night camp had been made under the 
open sky, and the scanty prison rations had been 
served. 


1 94 


JOSHUA. 


Joshua dug with his hands a resting place in the 
sand, and with care and skill helped the youth to pre- 
pare a similar one. 

Ephraim silently accepted this help ; but as they lay 
side by side, and the uncle began to speak to his nephew 
of the God of his people on whose aid they must rely, 
if they were not to fall victims to despair in the mines, 
the youth interrupted him, exclaiming in low tones, but 
with fierce resolution : 

“ They will not take me to the mines alive ! I 
would rather die, while making my escape, than pine 
away in such wretchedness.” 

Joshua whispered words of warning, and again re- 
minded him of his duties to his people. But Ephraim 
begged to be let alone ; yet soon after he touched his 
uncle and asked softly : 

“ What are they planning with Prince Siptah ?” 

“ I don’t know ; nothing good, that is certain.” 

“ And where is Aarsu, the Syrian, your foe, who 
commands the Asiatic mercenaries, and who was to 
watch us with such fierce zeal ? I did not see him 
with the others.” 

“‘He remained in Tanis with his troops.” 

“ To guard the palace ?” 

“ Undoubtedly.” 

“ Then he commands many soldiers, and Pharaoh 
has confidence in him ?” 

“ The utmost, though he ill deserves it.” 

“ And he is a Syrian, and therefore of our blood.” 

“ And more closely allied to us than to the Egyp- 
tians, at least so far as language and appearance are 
concerned.” 

“ I should have taken him for a man of our race, 


JOSHUA. 


r 95 


yet he is, as you were, one of the leaders in the 
army.” 

“ Other Syrians and Libyans command large troops 
of mercenaries, and the herald Ben Mazana, one of the 
highest dignitaries of the court — the Egyptians call 
him Rameses in the sanctuary of Ra — has a Hebrew 
father.” 

“And neither he nor the others are scorned on 
account of their birth ?” 

“ This is not quite so. But why do you ask these 
questions ?” 

“ I could not sleep.” 

“And so such thoughts came to you. But you 
have some definite idea in your mind and, if my infer- 
ence is correct, it would cause me pain. You wished 
to enter Pharaoh’s service!” 

Both were silent a long time, then Ephraim spoke 
again and, though he addressed Joshua, it seemed as if 
he were talking to himself : 

“ They will destroy our people ; bondage and shame 
await those who survive. My house is now left to 
ruin, not a head of my splendid herds of cattle remains, 
and the gold and silver I inherited, of which there was 
said to be a goodly store, they are carrying with them, 
for your father has charge of my wealth, and it will 
soon fall as booty into the hands of the Egyptians. 
Shall I, if I obtain my liberty, return to my people and 
make bricks ? Shall I bow my back and suffer blows 
and abuse ?” 

Joshua eagerly whispered: 

“ You must appeal to the God of your fathers, that 
He may protect and defend His people. Yet, if the 
Most High has willed the destruction of our race, be a 


196 


JOSHUA. 


man and learn to hate with all the might of your young 
soul those who trample your people under their feet. 
Fly to the Syrians, offer them your strong young arm, 
and take no rest till you have avenged yourself on 
those who have shed the blood of your people and load 
you, though innocent, with chains.” 

Again silence reigned for some time, nothing was 
heard from Ephraim’s rude couch save a dull, low moan 
from his oppressed breast; but at last he answered 
softly : 

“The chains no longer weigh upon us, and how 
could I hate her who released us from them ?” 

“ Remain grateful to Kasana,” was the whispered 
reply, “ but hate her nation.” 

Hosea heard the youth toss restlessly, and again 
sigh heavily and moan. 

It was past midnight, the waxing moon rode high 
in the heavens, and the sleepless man did not cease 
to listen for sounds from the youth ; but the latter 
remained silent, though slumber had evidently fled 
from him also; for a noise as if he were grinding 
his teeth came from his place of rest. Or had mice 
wandered to this barren place, where hard brown 
blades of grass grew between the crusts of salt and the 
bare spots, and were gnawing the prisoners’ hard 
bread ? 

Such gnawing and grinding disturb the sleep of 
one who longs for slumber; but Joshua desired to keep 
awake to continue to open the eyes of the blinded 
youth, yet he waited in vain for any sign of life from 
his nephew. 

At last he was about to lay his hand on the lad’s 
shoulder, but paused as by the moonlight he saw 


JOSHUA. 


I 9 7 


Ephraim raise one arm though, before he lay down, 
both hands were tied more firmly than before. 

Joshua now knew that it was the youth’s sharp 
teeth gnawing the rope which had caused the noise 
that had just surprised him, and he immediately stood 
up and looked first upward and then around him. 

Holding his breath, the older man watched every 
movement, and his heart began to throb anxiously. 
Ephraim meant to fly, and the first step toward escape 
had already succeeded ! Would that the others might 
prosper too! But he feared that the liberated youth 
might enter the wrong path, He was the only son of 
his beloved sister, a fatherless and motherless lad, so 
he had never enjoyed the uninterrupted succession of 
precepts and lessons which only a mother can give and 
a defiant young spirit will accept from her alone. The 
hands of strangers had bound the sapling to a stake 
and it had shot straight upward, but a mother’s love 
would have ennobled it with carefully chosen grafts. 
He had grown up beside another hearth than his 
parents’, yet the latter is the only true home for youth. 
What marvel if he felt himself a stranger among his 
people. 

Amid such thoughts a great sense of compassion 
stole over Joshua and, with it, the consciousness that 
he was deeply accountable for this youth who, for his 
sake, while on the way to bring him a message, had 
fallen into such sore misfortune. But much as he 
longed to warn him once more against treason and 
perjury, he refrained, fearing to imperil his success. 
Any noise might attract the attention of the guards, 
and he took as keen an interest in the attempt at liber- 
ation, as if Ephraim had made it at his suggestion. 


198 


JOSHUA. 


So instead of annoying the youth with fruitless 
warnings, he kept watch for him ; life had taught him 
that good advice is more frequently unheeded than fob 
lowed, and only personal experiences possess resistless 
power of instruction. 

The chief’s practiced eye soon showed him the way 
by which Ephraim, if fortune favored him, could 
escape. 

He called softly, and directly after his nephew 
whispered : 

“ I’ll loose your ropes, if you will hold up your 
hands to me. Mine are free !” 

Joshua’s tense features brightened. 

The defiant lad was a noble fellow, after all, and 
risked his own chance in behalf of one who, if he es- 
caped with him, threatened to bar the way in which, in 
youthful blindness, he hoped to find happiness. 


CHAPTER XIX. 

Joshua gazed intently around him. The sky was 
still bright, but if the north wind continued to blow, 
the clouds which seemed to be rising from the sea must 
soon cover it. 

The air had grown sultry, but the guards kept 
awake and regularly relieved one another. It was 
difficult to elude their attention ; yet close by Ephraim’s 
couch, which his uncle, for greater comfort, had helped 
him make on the side of a gently sloping hill, a narrow 
ravine ran down to the valley. White veins of gypsum 


JOSHUA. 


I 99 


and glittering mica sparkled in the moonlight along its 
bare edges. If the agile youth could reach this cleft 
unseen, and crawl through as far as the pool of salt - 
water, overgrown with tall grass and tangled desert 
shrubs, at which it ended, he might, aided by the 
clouds, succeed. 

After arriving at this conviction Joshua considered, 
as deliberately as if the matter concerned directing one 
of his soldiers on his way, whether he himself, in case 
he regained the use of his hands, could succeed in fol- 
lowing Ephraim without endangering his project. 
And he was forced to answer this question in the 
negative ; for the guard who sometimes sat, sometimes 
paced to and fro on a higher part of the crest of the 
hill a few paces away, could but too easily perceive, by 
the moonlight, the youth’s efforts to loose the firmly- 
knotted bonds. The cloud approaching the moon 
might perhaps darken it, ere the work was completed. 
Thus Ephraim might, on his account, incur the peril of 
losing the one fortunate moment which promised es- 
cape. Would it not be the basest of crimes, merely for 
the sake of the uncertain chance of flight, to bar the 
path to liberty of the youth whose natural protector he 
was ? So he whispered to Ephraim : 

“ I cannot go with you. Creep through the chasm 
at your right to the salt-pool. I will watch the guards. 
As soon as the cloud passes over the moon and I clear 
my throat, start off. If you escape, join our people. 
Greet my old father, assure him of my love and fidelity, 
and tell him where I am being taken. Listen to his 
advice and Miriam’s ; theirs is the best counsel. The 
cloud is approaching the moon, — not another word 
now!” 


200 


JOSHUA. 


As Ephraim still continued to urge him in a whispei 
to hold up his pinioned arms, he ordered him to keep 
silence and, as soon as the moon was obscured and the 
guard, who was pacing to and fro above their heads 
began a conversation with the man who came to relieve 
him, Joshua cleared his throat and, holding his breath, 
listened with a throbbing heart for some sound in the 
direction of the chasm. 

He first heard a faint scraping and, by the light of 
the fire which the guards kept on the hill-top as a pro- 
tection against wild beasts, he saw Ephraim’s empty 
couch. 

He uttered a sigh of relief; for the youth must 
have entered the ravine. But though he strained his 
ears to follow the crawling or sliding of the fugitive he 
heard nothing save the footsteps and voices of the 
warders. 

Yet he caught only the sound, not the meaning of 
their words, so intently did he fix his powers of hearing 
upon the course taken by the fugitive. How nimbly 
and cautiously the agile fellow must move ! He was 
still in the chasm, yet meanwhile the moon struggled 
victoriously with the clouds and suddenly her silver 
disk pierced the heavy black curtain that concealed 
her from the gaze of men, and her light was re- 
flected like a slender, glittering pillar from the motion- 
less pool of salt-water, enabling the watching Joshua to 
see what was passing below ; but he perceived nothing 
that resembled a human form. 

Had the fugitive encountered any obstacle in the 
chasm ? Did some precipice or abyss hold him in its 
gloomy depths ? Had — and at the thought he fancied 
that his heart had stopped beating — Had some gulf 


JOSHUA. 


201 


swallowed the lad when he was groping his way through 
the night ? 

How he longed for some noise, even the faintest, 
from the ravine ! The silence was terrible. But now ! 
Oh, would that it had continued ! Now the sound of 
falling stones and the crash of earth sliding after echoed 
loudly through the still night air. Again the moon- 
light burst through the cloud-curtain, and Joshua 
perceived near the pool a living creature which re- 
sembled an animal more than a human being, for it 
seemed to be crawling on four feet. Now the water 
sent up a shower of glittering spray. The figure be- 
low had leaped into the pool. Then the clouds again 
swallowed the lamp of night, and darkness covered 
everything. 

With a sigh of relief Joshua told himself that he had 
seen the flying Ephraim and that come what might, 
the escaping youth had gained a considerable start of 
his pursuers. 

But the latter neither remained inert nor allowed 
themselves to be deceived ; for though, to mislead them, 
he had shouted loudly : “ A jackal !” th.ey uttered a long, 
shrill whistle, which roused their sleeping comrades. A 
few seconds later the chief warder stood before him 
with a burning torch, threw its light on his face, and 
sighed with relief when he saw him. Not in vain had 
he bound him with double ropes ; for he would have 
been called to a severe reckoning at home had this 
particular man escaped. 

But while he was feeling the ropes on the prisoner’s 
arms, the glare of the burning torch, which lighted 
him, fell on the fugitive’s rude, deserted couch. There, 
as if in mockery, lay the gnawed rope Taking it up, 


202 


JOSHUA. 


he flung it at Joshua’s feet, blew his whistle again and 
again, and shouted : “ Escaped ! The Hebrew ! Young 
Curly-head !” 

Paying no farther heed to Joshua, he began the 
pursuit. Hoarse with fury, he issued order after order, 
each one sensible and eagerly obeyed. 

While some of the guards dragged the prisoners 
together, counted them, and tied them with ropes, their 
commander, with the others and his dogs, set off on the 
track of the fugitive. 

Joshua saw him make the intelligent animals smell 
Ephraim’s gnawed bonds and resting-place, and beheld 
them instantly rush to the ravine. Gasping for breath, 
he also noted that they remained in it quite a long 
time, and at last — the moon meanwhile scattered the 
clouds more and more — darted out of the ravine, and 
dashed to the water. He felt that it was fortunate 
Ephraim had waded through instead of passing round 
it ; for at its edge the dogs lost the scent, and minute 
after minute elapsed while the commander of the 
guards walked along the shore with the eager animals, 
which fairly thrust their noses into the fugitive’s steps, 
in order to again get on the right trail. Their loud, 
joyous barking at last announced that they had found 
it. Yet, even if they persisted in following the run- 
away, the captive warrior no longer feared the worst, 
for Ephraim had gained a long advance of his pursuers. 
Still, his heart beat loudly enough and time seemed to 
stand still until the chief-warder returned exhausted and 
unsuccessful. 

The older man, it is true, could never have over- 
taken the swift-footed youth, but the youngest and most 
active guards had been sent after the fugitive. This 


JOSHUA. 


203 


statement the captain of the guards himself made with 
an angry jeer. 

The kindly-natured man seemed completely trans- 
formed ; for he felt what had occurred as a disgrace 
which could scarcely be overcome, nay, a positive 
misfortune. 

The prisoner who had tried to deceive him by the 
shout of ‘ jackal !’ was doubtless the fugitive’s accomplice. 
Prince Siptah, too, who had interfered with the duties 
of his office, he loudly cursed. But nothing of the sort 
should happen again ; and he would make the whole 
band feel what had fallen to his lot through Ephraim. 
Therefore he ordered the prisoners to be again loaded 
with chains, the ex-chief fastened to a coughing old 
man, and all made to stand in rank and file before the 
fire till morning dawned. 

Joshua gave no answer to the questions his new com- 
panion-in-chains addressed to him ; he was waiting with 
an anxious heart for the return of the pursuers. At 
times he strove to collect his thoughts to pray, and 
commended to the God who had promised His aid, his 
own destiny and that of the fugitive boy. True, he 
was often rudely interrupted by the captain of the 
guards, who vented his rage upon him. 

Yet the man who had once commanded thousands 
of soldiers quietly submitted to everything, forcing him- 
self to accept it like the unavoidable discomfort of hail 
or rain ; nay, it cost him an effort to conceal his joyful 
emotion when, toward sunrise, the young warders sent 
in pursuit returned with tangled hair, panting for breath, 
and bringing nothing save one of the dogs with a 
broken skull. 

The only thing left for the captain of the guards to 


204 


JOSHUA. 


do was to report what had occurred at the first fortress 
on the Etham border, which the prisoners were obliged 
in any case to pass, and toward this they were now 
driven. 

Since Ephraim’s flight a new and more cruel spirit 
had taken possession of the warders. While yesterday 
they had permitted the unfortunate men to move for- 
ward at an easy pace, they now forced them to the 
utmost possible speed. Besides, the atmosphere was 
sultry, and the scorching sun struggled with the thunder- 
clouds gathering in heavy masses at the north. 

Joshua’s frame, inured to fatigues of every kind, 
resisted the tortures of this hurried march; but his 
weaker companion, who had grown grey in a scribe’s 
duties, often gave way and at last lay prostrate beside 
him. 

The captain was obliged to have the hapless man 
placed on an ass and chain another prisoner to Joshua. 
He was his former yoke-mate’s brother, an inspector of 
the king’s stables, a stalwart Egyptian, condemned to 
the mines solely on -account of the unfortunate circum- 
stance of being the nearest blood relative of a state 
criminal. 

Tt was easier to walk with this vigorous companion, 
and Joshua listened with deep sympathy and tried to com- 
fort him when, in a low voice, he made him the confidant 
of his yearning, and lamented the heaviness of heart 
with which he had left wife and child in want and suf- 
fering. Two sons had died of the pestilence, and it 
sorely oppressed his soul that he had been unable to 
provide for their burial — now his darlings would be 
lost to him in the other world also and forever. 

At the second halt the troubled father became franker 


JOSHUA. 


205 


still. An ardent thirst for vengence filled his soul, and 
he attributed the same feeling to his stern-eyed com- 
panion, whom he saw had plunged into misfortune 
from a high station in life. The ex-inspector of the 
stables had a sister-in-law, who was one of Pharaoh’s 
concubines, and through her and his wife, her sister, he 
had learned that a conspiracy was brewing against the 
king in the House of the Separated.* He even knew 
whom the women desired to place in Menephtah’s 
place. 

As Joshua looked at him, half questioning, half 
doubting, his companion whispered : “ Siptah, the 
king’s nephew, and his noble mother, are at the head of 
the plot. When I am once more free, I will remember 
you, for my sister-in-law certainly will not forget me.” 

Then he asked what was taking his companion to 
the mines, and Joshua frankly told his name. But when 
the Egyptian learned that he was fettered to a He- 
brew, he tore wildly at his chain and cursed his fate. 
His rage, however, soon subsided in the presence of 
the strange composure with which his companion in 
misfortune bore the rudest insults, and Joshua was glad 
to have the other beset him less frequently with com- 
plaints and questions. 

He now walked on for hours undisturbed, free to 
yield to his longing to collect his thoughts, analyze 
the new and lofty emotions which had ruled his soul 
during the past few days, and accommodate himself 
to his novel and terrible position. 

This quiet reflection and self-examination relieved 
him and, during the following night, he was invigorated 
by a deep, refreshing sleep. 

* The Harem of the modern Mohammedan Egyptians. 


206 


JOSHUA. 


When he awoke the setting stars were still in the 
sky and reminded him of the sycamore in Succoth, and 
the momentous morning when his lost love had won 
him for his God and his people. The glittering firma- 
ment arched over his head, and he had never so dis- 
tinctly felt the presence of the Most High. He be- 
lieved in His limitless power and, for the first time, felt 
a dawning hope that the Mighty Lord who had created 
heaven and earth would find ways and means to save 
His chosen people from the thousands of the Egyptian 
hosts. 

After fervently imploring God to extend His protect- 
ing hand over the feeble bands who, obedient to His 
command, had left so much behind them and marched 
so confidently through an unknown and distant land, 
and commended to His special charge the aged father 
whom he himself could not defend, a wonderful sense 
of peace filled his soul. 

The shouts of the guards, the rattling of the chain, 
his wretched companions in misfortune, nay, all that 
surrounded him, could not fail to recall the fate await- 
ing him. He was to grow grey in slavish toil within a 
close, hot pit, whose atmosphere choked the lungs, 
deprived of the bliss of breathing the fresh air and be- 
holding the sunlight ; loaded with chains, beaten and in- 
sulted, starving and thirsting, spending days and nights 
in a monotony destructive alike to soul and body, — - yet 
not for one moment did he lose the confident belief 
that this horrible lot might befall any one rather than 
himself, and something must interpose to save him. 

On the march farther eastward, which began with 
the first grey dawn of morning, he called this resolute 
confidence folly, yet strove to retain it and succeeded. 


JOSHUA. 


207 


The road led through the desert, and at the end of a 
few hours’ rapid march they reached the first fort, called 
the Fortress of Seti. Long before, they had seen it 
through the clear desert air, apparently within a bow- 
shot. 

Unrelieved by the green foliage of bush or palm- 
tree, it rose from the bare, stony, sandy soil, with its 
wooden palisades, its rampart, its escarped walls, and 
its lookout, with broad, flat roof, swarming with armed 
warriors. The latter had heard from Pithom that the 
Hebrews were preparing to break through the chain of 
fortresses on the isthmus and had at first mistaken the 
approaching band of prisoners for the vanguard of the 
wandering Israelites. 

From the summits of the strong projections, which 
jutted like galleries from every direction along the 
entire height of the escarped walls to prevent the 
planting of scaling-ladders, soldiers looked through the 
embrasures at the advancing convicts ; yet the archers 
had replaced their arrows in the quivers, for the 
watchmen in the towers perceived how few were the 
numbers of the approaching troop, and a messenger 
had already delivered to the commander of the garrison 
an order from his superior authorizing him to permit 
the passage of the prisoners. 

The gate of the palisade was now opened, and the 
captain of the guards allowed the prisoners to lie down 
on the glowing pavement within. 

No one could escape hence, even if the guards 
withdrew ; for the high fence was almost insurmount- 
able, and from the battlements on the top of the jutting 
walls darts could easily reach a fugitive. 

The ex-chief did not fail to note that everything 
37 


208 


JOSHUA. 


was ready, as if in the midst of war, for defence against 
a foe. Every man was at his post, and beside the 
huge brazen disk on the tower stood sentinels, each 
holding in his hand a heavy club to deal a blow at the 
approach of the expected enemy ; for though as far as 
the eye could reach, neither tree nor house was visible, 
the sound of the metal plate would be heard at the 
next fortress in the Etham line, and warn or summon 
its garrison. 

To be stationed in the solitude of this wilderness 
was not a punishment, but a misfortune ; and the com- 
mander of the army therefore provided that the same 
troops should never remain long in the desert. 

Joshua himself, in former days, had been in com- 
mand of the most southerly of these fortresses, called the 
Migdol of the South ; for each one of the fortifications 
bore the name of Migdol, which in the Semitic tongue 
means the tower of a fortress. 

His people were evidently expected here; and it 
was not to be supposed that Moses had led the tribes 
back to Egypt. So they must have remained in Suc- 
coth or have turned southward. But in that direction 
rolled the waters of the Bitter Lakes and the Red 
Sea, and how could the Hebrew hosts pass through 
the deep waters ? 

Hosea’s heart throbbed anxiously at this thought, 
and all his fears were to find speedy confirmation ; for 
he heard the commander of the fortress tell the captain 
of the prisoners’ guards, that the Hebrews had ap- 
proached the line of fortifications several days before, but 
soon after, without assaulting the garrison, had turned 
southward. Since then they seemed to have been wan- 
dering in the desert between Pithom and the Red Sea. 


JOSHUA. 


209 


All this had been instantly reported at Tanis, but the 
king was forced to delay the departure of the army for 
several days until the week of general mourning for the 
heir to the throne had expired. The fugitives might 
have turned this to account, but news had come by a 
carrier dove that the blinded multitude had encamped 
at Pihahiroth, not far from the Red Sea. So it would 
be easy for the army to drive them into the water like 
a herd of cattle ; there was no escape for them in any 
other direction. 

The captain listened to these tidings with satisfac- 
tion ; then he whispered a few words to the com- 
mander of the fortress and pointed with his finger to 
Joshua, who had long recognized him as a brother-in- 
arms who had commanded a hundred men in his own 
cohorts and to whom he had done many a kindness. 
He was reluctant to reveal his identity in this wretched 
plight to his former subordinate, who was also his 
debtor; but the commander flushed as he saw him, 
shrugged his shoulders as though he desired to express 
to Joshua regret for his fate and the impossibility of 
doing anything for him, and then exclaimed so loudly 
that he could not fail to hear : 

“ The regulations forbid any conversation with pris- 
oners of state, but I knew this man in better days, and 
will send you some wine which I beg you to share 
with him.” 

As he walked with the other to the gate, and the 
latter remarked that Hosea deserved such favor less 
than the meanest of the band, because he had connived 
at the escape of the fugitive of whom he had just 
spoken, the commander ran his hand through his hair, 
and answered : 


210 


JOSHUA. 


“ I would gladly have shown him some kindness, 
though he is much indebted to me ; but if that is the 
case, we will omit the wine; you have rested long 
enough at any rate.” 

The captain angrily gave the order for departure, 
and drove the hapless band deeper into the desert 
toward the mines. 

This time Joshua walked with drooping head. 
Every fibre of his being rebelled against the misfortune 
of being dragged through the wilderness at this de- 
cisive hour, far from his people and the father whom he 
knew to be in such imminent danger. Under his guid- 
ance the wanderers might perchance have found some 
means of escape. His fist clenched when he thought 
of the fettered limbs which forbade him to utilize the 
plans his brain devised for the welfare of his people ; yet 
he would not lose courage, and whenever he said to him- 
self that the Hebrews were lost and must succumb in 
this struggle, he heard the new name God Himself had 
bestowed upon him ring in his ears and at the same 
moment the flames of hate and vengeance on all 
Egyptians, which had been fanned anew by the fortress 
commander’s base conduct, blazed up still more 
brightly. His whole nature was in the most violent 
tumult and as the captain noted his flushed cheeks and 
the gloomy light in his eyes he thought that this strong 
man, too, had been seized by the fever to which so 
many convicts fell victims on the march. 

When, at the approach of darkness, the wretched 
band sought a night’s rest in the midst of the wilder- 
ness, a terrible conflict of emotions was seething in 
Joshua’s soul, and the scene around him fitly har- 
monized with his mood; for black clouds had again 


JOSHUA. 


21 1 


risen in the north from the sea and, before the thunder 
and lightning burst forth and the rain poured in 
torrents, howling, whistling winds swept masses of 
scorching sand upon the recumbent prisoners. 

After these dense clouds had been their coverlet, 
pools and ponds were their beds. The guards had 
bound them together hand and foot and, dripping and 
shivering, held the ends of the ropes in their hands ; for 
the night was as black as the embers of their fire which 
the rain had extinguished, and who could have pursued 
a fugitive through such darkness and tempest. 

But Joshua had no thought of secret flight. While 
the Egyptians were trembling and moaning, when they 
fancied they heard the wrathful voice of Seth, and the 
blinding sheets of fire flamed from the clouds, he only 
felt the approach of the angry God, whose fury he 
shared, whose hatred was also his own. He felt himself 
a witness of His all-destroying omnipotence, and his 
breast swelled more proudly as he told himself that he 
was summoned to wield the sword in the service of this 
Mightiest of the Mighty. 


CHAPTER XX. 

The storm which had risen as night closed in swept 
over the isthmus. The waves in its lakes dashed high, 
and the Red Sea, which thrust a bay shaped like the 
horn of a snail into it from the south, was lashed to the 
wildest fury. 

Farther northward, where Pharaoh’s army, pro- 
tected by the Migdol of the South, the strongest fort of 


212 


JOSHUA. 


the Etham line, had encamped a short time before, the 
sand lashed by the storm whirled through the air and, 
in the quarter occupied by the king and his great 
officials, hammers were constantly busy driving the 
tent-pins deeper into the earth ; for the brocades, 
cloths, and linen materials which formed the portable 
houses of Pharaoh and his court, struck by the gale, 
threatened to break from the poles by which they were 
supported. 

Black clouds hung in the north, but the moon and 
stars were often visible, and flashes of distant lightning 
frequently brightened the horizon. Even now the 
moisture of heaven seemed to avoid this rainless region 
and in all directions fires were burning, which the 
soldiers surrounded in double rows, like a living shield, 
to keep the storm from scattering the fuel. 

The sentries had a hard duty ; for the atmosphere 
was sultry, in spite of the north wind, which still blew 
violently, driving fresh clouds of sand into their faces. 

Only two sentinels were pacing watchfully to and 
fro at the most northern gate of the camp, but they 
were enough ; for, on account of the storm, no one had 
appeared for a long time to demand entrance or egress. 
At last, three hours after sunset, a slender figure, scarcely 
beyond boyhood, approached the guards with a firm 
step and, showing a messenger’s pass, asked the way 
to Prince Siptah’s tent. 

He seemed to have had a toilsome journey ; for his 
thick black locks were tangled and his feet were 
covered with dust and dried clay. Yet he excited no 
suspicion; for his bearing was that of a self-reliant 
freeman, his messenger’s pass was perfectly correct, 
and the letter he produced was really directed to 


JOSHUA. 


213 


Prince Siptah ; a scribe of the corn storehouses, who 
was sitting at the nearest fire with other officials and 
subordinate officers, examined it. 

As the youth’s appearance pleased most of those 
present, and he came from Tanis and perhaps brought 
news, a seat at the fire and a share in the meal were 
offered ; but he was in haste. 

Declining the invitation with thanks, he answered 
the questions curtly and hurriedly and begged the rest- 
ing soldiers for a guide. One was placed at his dis- 
posal without delay. But he was soon to learn that it 
would not be an easy matter to reach a member of the 
royal family; for the tents of Pharaoh, his relatives, 
and dignitaries stood in a special spot in the heart of 
the camp, hedged in by the shields of the heavily-armed 
troops. 

When he entered he was challenged again and 
again, and his messenger’s pass and the prince’s letter 
were frequently inspected. The guide, too, was sent 
back, and his place was filled by an aristocratic lord, 
called ‘ the eye and ear of the king,’ who busied himself 
with the seal of the letter. But the messenger reso- 
lutely demanded it, and as soon as it was again in his 
hand, and two tents standing side by side rocking in 
the tempest had been pointed out to him, one as 
Prince Siptah’s, the other as the shelter of Kasana, the 
daughter of Homecht, for whom he asked, he turned to 
the chamberlain who came out of the former one, 
showed him the letter, and asked to be taken to the 
prince ; but the former offered to deliver the letter to 
his master — whose steward he was — and Ephraim — 
for he was the messenger — agreed, if he would ob- 
tain him immediate admission to the young widow. 


214 


JOSHUA. 


The steward seemed to lay much stress upon getting 
possession of the letter and, after scanning Ephraim 
from top to toe, he asked if Kasana knew him, and 
when the other assented, adding that he brought her 
a verbal message, the Egyptian said smiling : 

“ Well then ; but we must protect our carpets from 
such feet, and you seem weary and in need of refresh- 
ment Follow me.” 

With these words he took him to a small tent, be- 
fore which an old slave and one scarcely beyond child- 
hood were sitting by the fire, finishing their late meal 
with a bunch of garlic. 

They started up as they saw their master ; but he 
ordered the old man to wash the messenger’s feet, and 
bade the younger ask the prince’s cook in his name for 
meat, bread, and wine. Then he led Ephraim to his 
tent, which was lighted by a lantern, and asked how 
he, who from his appearance was neither a slave nor a 
person of mean degree, had come into such a pitiable 
plight. The messenger replied that on his way he had 
bandaged the wounds of a severely injured man with 
the upper part of his apron, and the chamberlain in- 
stantly went to his baggage and gave him a piece of 
finely plaited linen. 

Ephraim’s reply, which was really very near the 
truth, had cost him so little thought and sounded so 
sincere, that it won credence, and the steward’s kind- 
ness seemed to him so worthy of gratitude that he made 
no objection when the courtier, without injuring the seal, 
pressed the roll of papyrus with a skilful hand, separating 
the layers and peering into the openings to decipher the 
contents. While thus engaged, the corpulent courtier’s 
round eyes sparkled brightly and it seemed to the youth 


JOSHUA. 


2I 5 


as if the countenance of the man, whose comfortable 
plumpness and smooth rotundity at first appeared like 
a mirror of the utmost kindness of heart, now had the 
semblance of a cat’s. 

As soon as the steward had completed his task, he 
begged the youth to refresh himself in all comfort, and 
did not return until Ephraim had bathed, wrapped a 
fresh linen upper-garment around his hips, perfumed and 
anointed his hair, and, glancing into the mirror, was in 
the act of slipping a broad gold circlet upon his arm. 

He had hesitated some time ere doing this ; for he 
was aware that he would encounter great perils; but 
this circlet was his one costly possession and, during 
his captivity, it had been very difficult for him to hide 
it under his apron. It might be of much service to him 
but, if he put it on, it would attract attention and in- 
crease the danger of being recognized. 

Yet the reflection he beheld in the mirror, vanity, 
and the desire to appear well in Kasana’s eyes, conquer- 
ed caution and prudent consideration, and the broad 
costly ornament soon glittered on his arm. 

The steward stood in astonishment before the hand- 
some, aristocratic youth, so haughty in his bearing, who 
had taken the place of the unassuming messenger. The 
question whether he was a relative of Kasana sprang 
to his lips, and receiving an answer in the negative, he 
asked to what family he belonged. 

Ephraim bent his eyes on the ground for some time 
in embarrassment, and then requested the Egyptian to 
spare him an answer until he had talked with Hornecht’s 
daughter. 

The other, shaking his head, looked at him again, 
but pressed him no farther; for what he had read in the 


21 6 


JOSHUA. 


letter was a secret which might bring death to whoever 
was privy to it, and the aristocratic young messenger 
was doubtless the son of a dignitary who belonged to 
the circle of the fellow-conspirators of Prince Siptah, 
his master. 

A chill ran through the courtier’s strong, corpulent 
body, and he gazed with mingled sympathy and dread 
at the blooming human flower associated thus early in 
plans fraught with danger. 

His master had hitherto only hinted at the secret, 
and it would still be possible for him to keep his own 
fate separate from his. Should he do sd, an old age 
free from care lay before him ; but, if he joined the 
prince and his plan succeeded, how high he might rise ! 
Terribly momentous was the choice confronting him, 
the father of many children, and beads of perspiration 
stood on his brow as, incapable of any coherent thought, 
he led Ephraim to Kasana’s tent, and then hastened 
to his master. 

Silence reigned within the light structure, which was 
composed of poles and gay heavy stuffs, tenanted by the 
beautiful widow. 

With a throbbing heart Ephraim approached the 
entrance, and when he at last summoned courage and 
drew aside the curtain fastened firmly to the earth, 
which the wind puffed out like a sail, he beheld a dark 
room, from which a similar one opened on the right 
and left. The one on the left was as dark as the cen- 
tral one ; but a flickering light stole through numerous 
chinks of the one on the right. The tent was one of 
those with a flat roof, divided into three apartments, 
which he had often seen, and the woman who irresistibly 
attracted him was doubtless in the lighted one. 


JOSHUA. 


217 


To avoid exposing himself to fresh suspicion, he 
must conquer his timid delay, and he had already stooped 
and loosed the loop which fastened the curtain to the 
hook in the floor, when the door of the lighted room 
opened and a woman’s figure entered the dark central 
chamber. 

Was it she ? 

Should he venture to speak to her ? 

Yes, it must be done. 

Panting tor breath and clenching his hands, he sum- 
moned up his courage as if he were about to steal un- 
bidden into the most sacred sanctuary of a temple. 
Then he pushed the curtain aside, and the woman 
whom he had just noticed greeted him with a low cry. 

But he speedily regained his composure, for a ray of 
light had fallen on her face, revealing that the person 
who stood before him was not Kasana, but her nurse, 
who had accompanied her to the prisoners and then to 
the camp. She, too, recognized him and stared at him 
as though he had risen from the grave. 

They were old acquaintances ; for when he was first 
brought to the archer’s house she had prepared his bath 
and moistened his wound with balsam, and during his 
second stay beneath the same roof, she had joined her 
mistress in nursing him. They had chatted away many 
an hour together, and he knew that she was kindly dis- 
posed toward him ; for when midway between waking 
and sleeping, in his burning fever, her hand had stroked 
him with maternal tenderness, and afterwards she had 
never wearied of questioning him about his people and 
at last had acknowledged that she was descended from 
the Syrians, who were allied to the Hebrews. Nay, even 
his language was not wholly strange to her ; for she had 


2l8 


JOSHUA. 


been a woman of twenty when dragged to Egypt with 
other prisoners of Rameses the Great. Ephraim, she 
was fond of saying, reminded her of her own son when 
he was still younger. 

The youth had no ill to fear from her, so grasping 
her hand, he whispered that he had escaped from his 
guards and come to ask counsel from her mistress and 
herself. 

The word “ escaped ” was sufficient to satisfy the 
old woman; for her idea of ghosts was that they put 
others to flight, but did not fly themselves. Relieved, 
she stroked the youth’s curls and, ere his whispered ex- 
planation was ended, turned her back upon him and 
hurried into the lighted room to tell her mistress whom 
she had found outside. 

A few minutes after Ephraim was standing before 
the woman who had become the guiding star of his 
life. With glowing cheeks he gazed into the beautiful 
face, still flushed by weeping, and though it gave his 
heart a pang when, before vouchsafing him a greeting, 
she enquired whether Hosea had accompanied him, he 
forgot the foolish pain when he saw her gaze warmly at 
him. Yet when the nurse asked whether she did not 
think he looked well and vigorous, and withal more 
manly in appearance, it seemed as though he had really 
grown taller, and his heart beat faster and faster. 

Kasana desired to learn the minutest details of his 
uncle’s experiences ; but after he had done her bidding 
and finally yielded to the wish to speak of his own fate, 
she interrupted him to consult the nurse concerning the 
means of saving him from unbidden looks and fresh 
dangers — and the right expedient was soon found. 

First, with Ephraim’s help, the old woman closed 


JOSHUA. 


2 19 

the main entrance of the tent as firmly as possible, and 
then pointed to the dark room into which he must 
speedily and softly retire as soon as she beckoned to 
him. 

Meanwhile Kasana had poured some wine into a 
goblet, and when he came back with the nurse she 
made him sit down on the giraffe skin at her feet and 
asked how he had succeeded in evading the guards, and 
what he expected from the future. She would tell him 
in advance that her father had remained in Tanis, so he 
need not fear recognition and betrayal. 

Her pleasure in this meeting was evident to both 
eyes and ears; nay, when Ephraim commenced his 
story by saying that Prince Siptah’s command to re- 
move the prisoners’ chains, for which they were indebted 
solely to her, had rendered his escape possible, she 
clapped her hands like a child. Then her face clouded 
and, with a deep sigh, she added that ere his arrival 
her heart had almost broken with grief and tears ; but 
Hosea should learn what a woman would sacrifice for 
the most ardent desire of her heart. 

She repaid with grateful words Ephraim’s assurance 
that, before his flight, he had offered to release his 
uncle from his bonds and, when she learned that Joshua 
had refused to accept his nephew’s aid, lest it might en- 
danger the success of the plan he had cleverly devised 
for him, she cried out to her nurse, with tearful eyes, 
that Hosea alone would have been capable of such a 
deed. 

To the remainder of the fugitive’s tale she listened 
intently, often interrupting him with sympathizing 
questions. 

The torturing days and nights of the past, which 


220 


JOSHUA. 


had reached such a happy termination, seemed now 
like a blissful dream, a bewildering fairy-tale, and the 
goblet she constantly replenished was not needed to 
lend fire to his narrative. 

Never before had he been so eloquent as while de- 
scribing how, in the ravine, he had stepped on some 
loose stones and rolled head foremost down into the 
chasm with them. On reaching the bottom he had be- 
lieved that all was lost ; for soon after extricating himself 
from the rubbish that had buried him, in order to hurry 
to the pool, he had heard the whistle of the guards. 

Yet he had been a good runner from his childhood, 
had learned in his native pastures to guide himself by 
the light of the stars, so without glancing to the right 
or to the left, he had hastened southward as fast as his 
feet would carry him. Often in the darkness he had 
fallen over stones or tripped in the hollows of the 
desert sand, but only to rise again quickly and dash 
onward, onward toward the south, where he knew he 
should find her, Kasana, her for whose sake he reck- 
lessly flung to the winds what wfiser heads had counselled, 
her for whom he was ready to sacrifice liberty and life. 

Whence he derived the courage to confess this, he 
knew not, and neither the blow from her fan, nor the 
warning exclamation of the nurse: “Just look at the 
boy ! ” sobered him. Nay, his sparkling eyes sought 
hers still more frequently as he continued his story. 

One of the hounds which attacked him he had 
flung against a rock, and the other he pelted with 
stones till it fled howling into a thicket. He had seen 
no other pursuers, either that night, or during the whole 
.of the next day. At last he again reached a travelled 
road and found country people who told him which 


JOSHUA. 


221 


way Pharaoh’s army had marched. At noon, over- 
whelmed by fatigue, he had fallen asleep under the 
shade of a sycamore, and when he awoke the sun was 
near its setting. He was very hungry, so he took a 
few turnips from a neighboring field. But their owner 
suddenly sprang from a ditch near by, and he barely 
escaped his pursuit. 

He had wandered along during a part of the night, 
and then rested beside a well on the roadside, for he 
knew that wild beasts shun such frequented places. 

After sunrise he continued his march, following the 
road taken by the army. Everywhere he found traces 
of it, and when, shortly before noon, exhausted and 
faint from hunger, he reached a village in the corn- 
lands watered by the Seti-canal, he debated whether 
to sell his gold armlet, obtain more strengthening food, 
and receive some silver and copper in change. But 
he was afraid of being taken for a thief and again im- 
prisoned, for his apron had been tattered by the thorns, 
and his sandals had long since dropped from his feet. 
He had believed that even the hardest hearts could 
not fail to pity his misery so, hard as it was for him, 
he had knocked at a peasant’s door and begged. But 
the man gave him nothing save the jeering counsel 
that a strong young fellow like him ought to use his 
arms and leave begging to the old and weak. A 
second peasant had even threatened to beat him; 
but as he walked on with drooping head, a young 
woman whom he had noticed in front of the barbarian’s 
house followed him, thrust some bread and dates into his 
hand, and whispered hastily that heavy taxes had been 
levied on the village when Pharaoh marched through, 
or she would have given him something better. 


222 


JOSHUA. 


This unexpected donation, which he had eaten at 
the next well, had not tasted exactly like a festal ban- 
quet, but he did not tell Kasana that it had been 
embittered by the doubt whether to fulfil Joshua’s 
commission and return to his people or yield to the 
longing that drew him to her. 

He moved forward irresolutely, but fate seemed to 
have undertaken to point out his way; for after walking 
a short half hour, the latter portion of the time through 
barren land, he had found by the wayside a youth of 
about his own age who, moaning with pain, held his 
foot clasped between both hands. Pity led him to go 
to him and, to his astonishment, he recognized the 
runner and messenger of Kasana’s father, with whom 
he had often talked. 

“ Apu, our nimble Nubian runner ?” cried the young 
widow, and Ephraim assented and then added that 
the messenger had been despatched to convey a letter 
to Prince Siptah as quickly as possible, and the swift- 
footed lad, who was wont to outstrip his master’s 
noble steeds, had shot over the road like an arrow and 
would have reached his destination in two hours more, 
had he not stepped on the sharp edge of a bottle that 
had been shattered by a wagon- wheel — and made a 
deep and terrible wound. 

“And you helped him ?” asked Kasana. 

“ How could I do otherwise ?” replied Ephraim. 
“ He had already lost a great deal of blood and was 
pale as death. So I carried him to the nearest ditch, 
washed the gaping wound, and anointed it with his 
balsam.” 

“ I put the little box in his pouch myself a year 
ago,” said the nurse who was easily moved, wiping her 


JOSHUA. 


223 


eyes. Ephraim confirmed the statement, for Apu had 
gratefully told him of it. Then he went on. 

“ I tore my upper garment into strips and bandaged 
the wound as well as I could. Meanwhile he con- 
stantly urged haste, held out the pass and letter his 
master had given him and, knowing nothing of the 
misfortune which had befallen me, charged me to de- 
liver the roll to the prince in his place. Oh, how 
willingly I undertook the task and, soon after the 
second hour had passed, I reached the camp. The 
letter is in the prince’s hands, and here am I — and I 
can see that you are glad ! But no one was ever so 
happy as I to sit here at your feet, and look up to you, 
so grateful as I am that you have listened to me so kind- 
ly, and if they load me with chains again 1 will bear it 
calmly, if you will but care for me. Ah, my misfortune 
has been so great ! I have neither father nor mother, 
no one who loves me. You, you alone are dear, and 
you will not repulse me, will you ?” 

He had fairly shouted the last words, as if beside 
himself, and carried away by the might of passion and 
rendered incapable by the terrible experiences of the 
past few hours of controlling the emotions that assailed 
him, the youth, still scarcely beyond childhood, who 
saw himself tom away from and bereft of all that had 
usually sustained and supported him, sobbed aloud, 
and like a frightened birdling seeking protection under 
its mother’s wings, hid his head, amid floods of tears, 
in Kasana’s lap. 

Warm compassion seized upon the tender-hearted 
young widow, and her own eyes grew dim. She laid 
her hands kindly upon his head, and feeling the tremor 
that shook the frame of the weeping lad, she raised his 
38 


224 


JOSHUA. 


head with both hands, kissed his brow and cheeks, 
looked smilingly into his eyes with tears in her own, 
and exclaimed : 

“You poor, foolish fellow! Why should I not 
care for you, why should I repel you ? Your uncle is 
the most beloved of men to me, and you are like his 
son. For your sakes I have already accepted what I 
should otherwise have thrust far, far from me! But 
now I must go on, and must not care what others may 
think or say of me, if only I can accomplish the one 
thing for which I am risking person, life, all that I once 
prized ! Wait, you poor, impulsive fellow !” — and here 
she again kissed him on the cheeks — “ I shall succeed 
in smoothing the path for you also. That is enough 
now !” 

This command sounded graver, and was intended to 
curb the increasing impetuosity of the ardent youth. 
But she suddenly started up, exclaiming with anxious 
haste : “ Go, go, at once !” 

The footsteps of men approaching the tent, and a 
warning word from the nurse had brought this stern 
order to the young widow’s lips, and Ephraim’s quick 
ear made him understand her anxiety and urged him to 
join the old nurse in the dark room. There he per- 
ceived that a few moments’ delay would have betrayed 
him ; for the curtain of the tent was drawn aside and a 
man passed through the central space straight to the 
lighted apartment, where Kasana — the youth heard it 
distinctly — welcomed the new guest only too cor- 
dially, as though his late arrival surprised her. 

Meanwhile the nurse had seized her own cloak, 
flung it over the fugitive’s bare shoulders, and whis- 
pered : 


JOSHUA. 


225 


“ Be near the tent just before sunrise, but do not 
enter it until I call you, if you value your life. You 
have neither mother nor father, and my child Kasana — 
ah, what a dear, loving heart she has ! — she is the best 
of all good women ; but whether she is fit to be the 
guide of an inexperienced young blusterer, whose heart 
is blazing like dry straw with love for her, is another 
question. I considered many things, while listening to 
your story, and on account of my liking for you I will 
tell you this. You have an uncle who — my child is 
right there — is the best of men, and I know mankind. 
Whatever he advised, do; for it will surely benefit 
you. Obey him ! If his bidding leads you far away 
from here and Kasana, so much the better for you. 
We are walking in dangerous paths, and had it not 
been done for Hosea’s sake, I would have tried to hold 
her back with all my might. But for him — I am an 
old woman; but I would go through fire myself for 
that man. I am more grieved than I can tell, both for 
the pure, sweet child and for yourself, whom my own 
son was once so much like, so I repeat : Obey your 
uncle, boy ! Do that, or you will go to ruin, and that 
would be a pity !” 

With these words, without waiting for an answer, 
she drew the curtain of the tent aside, and waited until 
Ephraim had slipped through. Then, wiping her eyes, 
she entered, as if by chance, the lighted chamber ; but 
Kasana and her late guest had matters to discuss that 
brooked no witnesses, and her “ dear child ” only per- 
mitted her to light her little lamp at the three-armed 
candelabra, and then sent her to rest. 

She promptly obeyed and, in the dark room, where 


226 


JOSHUA. 


her couch stood beside that of her mistress, she sank 
down, hid her face in her hands, and wept. 

She felt as though the world was upside down. 
She no longer understood her darling Kasana ; for she 
was sacrificing purity and honor for the sake of a man 
whom — she knew it — her soul abhorred. 


CHAPTER XXI. 

Ephraim cowered in the shadow of the tent, from 
which he had slipped, and pressed his ear close to the 
wall. He had cautiously ripped a small opening in a 
seam of the cloth, so he could see and hear what was 
passing in the lighted room of the woman he loved. 

The storm kept every one within the tents whom 
duty did not summon into the open air, and Ephraim 
had less reason to fear discovery on account of the 
deep shadow that rested on the spot where he lay. 
The nurse’s cloak covered him and, though shiver after 
shiver shook his young limbs, it was due to the bitter 
anguish that pierced his soul. 

The man on whose breast he saw Kasana lay her 
head was a prince, a person of high rank and great 
power, and the capricious beauty did not always repel 
the bold man, when his lips sought those for whose 
kiss Ephraim so ardently longed. 

She owed him nothing, it is true, yet her heart 
belonged to his uncle, whom she had preferred to all 
others. She had declared herself ready to endure the 
most terrible things for his liberation ; and now his own 
eyes told him that she was false and faithless, that she 


JOSHUA. 


227 


granted to another what belonged to one alone. She 
had bestowed caresses on him, too, but these were only 
the crumbs that fell from Hosea’s table, a robbery — he 
confessed it with a blush — he had perpetrated on his 
uncle, yet he felt offended, insulted, deceived, and con- 
sumed to his inmost soul with fierce jealousy on be- 
half of his uncle, whom he honored, nay, loved, 
though he had opposed his wishes. 

And Hosea ? Why, he too, like himself, this 
princely suitor, and all other men, must love her, spite 
of his strange conduct at the well by the roadside — it 
was impossible for him to do otherwise — and now, 
safe from the poor prisoner’s resentment, she was 
basely, treacherously enjoying another’s tender caresses. 

Siptah, he had heard at their last meeting, was his 
uncle’s foe, and it was to him that she betrayed the 
man she loved ! 

The chink in the tent was ready to show him 
everything that occurred within, but he often closed 
his eyes that he might not behold it. Often, it is true, 
the hateful scene held him in thrall by a mysterious 
spell and he would fain have torn the walls of the tent 
asunder, struck the detested Egyptian to the ground, 
and shouted into the faithless woman’s face the name 
of Hosea, coupled with the harshest reproaches. 

The fervent passion which had taken possession of 
him was suddenly transformed to hate and scorn. He 
had believed himself to be the happiest of mortals, and 
he had suddenly become the most miserable ; no one, 
he believed, had ever experienced such a fall from the 
loftiest heights to the lowest depths. 

The nurse had been right. Naught save misery 


228 


JOSHUA. 


and despair could come to him from so faithless a 
woman. 

Once he started up to fly, but he again heard the 
bewitching tones of her musical laugh, and mysterious 
powers detained him, forcing him to listen. 

At first the seething blood had throbbed so violently 
in his ears that he felt unable to follow the dialogue in 
the lighted tent. But, by degrees, he grasped the pur- 
port of whole sentences, and now he understood all 
that they said, not a word of their further conversation 
escaped him, and it was absorbing enough, though it 
revealed a gulf from which he shrank shuddering. 

Kasana refused the bold suitor many favors for 
which he pleaded, but this only impelled him to be- 
seech her more fervently to give herself to him, and the 
prize he offered in return was the highest gift of earth, 
the place by his side as queen on the throne of Egypt, 
to which he aspired. He said this distinctly, but what 
followed was harder to understand ; for the passionate 
suitor was in great haste and often interrupted his 
hasty sentences to assure Kasana, to whose hands in 
this hour he was committing his life and liberty, of his 
changeless love, or to soothe her when the boldness of 
his advances awakened fear and aversion. But he soon 
began to speak of the letter whose bearer Ephraim had 
been and, after reading it aloud and explaining it, the 
youth realized with a slight shudder that he had be- 
come an accomplice in the most criminal of all plots, 
and for a moment the longing stole over him to betray 
the traitors and deliver them into the hand of the 
mighty sovereign whose destruction they were plotting. 
But he repelled the thought and merely sunned himself 
in the pleasurable consciousness — the first during this 


JOSHUA. 


229 


cruel hour — of holding Kasana and her royal lover in 
his hand as one holds a beetle by a string. This had a 
favorable effect on him and restored the confidence and 
courage he had lost. The baser the things he continued 
to hear, the more clearly he learned to appreciate the 
value of the goodness and truth which he had lost. 
His uncle’s words, too, came back to his memory. 

“ Give no man, from the loftiest to the lowliest, a 
right to regard you save with respect, and you can 
hold your head as high as the proudest warrior who 
ever wore purple robe and golden armor.” 

On the couch in Kasana’s house, while shaking with 
fever, he had constantly repeated this sentence*; but in 
the misery of captivity, and on his flight it had again 
vanished from his memory. In the courtier’s tent when, 
after he had bathed and perfumed himself, the old slave 
held a mirror before him, he had given it a passing 
thought ; but now it mastered his whole soul. And 
strange to say, the worthless traitor within wore a pur- 
ple coat and golden mail, and looked like a military 
hero, but he could not hold his head erect, for the work 
he sought to accomplish could only succeed in the 
secresy that shuns the light, and was like the labor of 
the hideous mole which undermines the ground in the 
darkness. 

His tool was the repulsive cloven-footed trio, false- 
hood, fraud, and faithlessness, and she whom he had 
chosen for his help-mate was the woman — it shamed 
him to his inmost soul — for whom he had been in the 
act of sacrificing all that was honorable, precious, and 
dear to him. 

The worst infamies which he had been taught to 


230 


JOSHUA. 


shun were the rounds of the ladder on which this evil 
man intended to mount. 

The roll the youth had brought to the camp con- 
tained two letters. The first was from the conspirators 
in Tanis, the second from Siptah’s mother. 

The former desired his speedy return and told him 
that the Syrian Aarsu, the commander of the foreign 
mercenaries, who guarded the palace, as well as the 
women’s house, was ready to do him homage. If the 
high-priest of Amon, who was at once chief-judge, vice- 
roy and keeper of the seal, proclaimed him king, he 
was sovereign and could enter the palace which stood 
open to him and ascend the throne without resistance. If 
Pharaoh returned, the body-guards would take him 
prisoner and remove him as Siptah, who liked no half- 
way measures, had secretly directed, while the chief- 
priest insisted upon keeping him in mild imprisonment. 

Nothing was to be feared save the premature return 
from Thebes of Seti, the second son of Menephtah ; 
for the former, after his older brother’s death, had be- 
come heir to the throne, and carrier doves had brought 
news yesterday that he was now on his way. Therefore 
Siptah and the powerful priest who was to proclaim 
him king were urged to the utmost haste. 

The necessary measures had been adopted in case 
of possible resistance from the army ; for as soon as the 
Hebrews had been destroyed, the larger portion of the 
troops, without any suspicion of the impending de- 
thronement of their commander-in-chief, would be sent 
to their former stations. The body-guards were devoted 
to Siptah, and the others who entered the capital, 
should worst come to worst, could be easily overpowered 
by Aarsu and his mercenaries. 


JOSHUA. 


231 


“ There is nothing farther for me to do,” said the 
prince, “ stretching himself comfortably, like a man who 
has successfully accomplished a toilsome task,” except 
to rush back to Tanis in a few hours with Bai, have 
myself crowned and proclaimed king in the temple of 
Amon, and finally received in the palace as Pharaoh. 
The rest will take care of itself. Seti, whom they call the 
heir to the throne, is just such another weakling as his 
father, and must submit to a fixed fact, or if necessary, 
be forced to do so. The captain of the body-guards 
will see that Menephtah does not again enter the 
palace in the city of Rameses. 

The second letter which was addressed to the 
Pharaoh, had been written by the mother of the prince 
in order to recall her son and the chief-priest Bai to the 
capital as quickly as possible, without exposing the for- 
mer to the reproach of cowardice for having quitted 
the army so shortly before the battle. Though she 
had never been better, she protested with hypocritical 
complaints and entreaties, that the hours of her life 
were numbered, and besought the king to send her son 
and the chief-priest Bai to her without delay, that she 
might be permitted to bless her only child before her 
death. 

She was conscious of many a sin, and no one, save 
the high-priest, possessed the power of winning the 
favor of the gods for her, a dying woman. Without his 
intercession she would perish in despair. 

This letter, too, the base robber of a crown read 
aloud, called it a clever bit of feminine strategy, and 
rubbed his hands gleefully. 

Treason, murder, hypocrisy, fraud, shameful abuse 
of the most sacred feelings, nay all that was evil must 


232 


JOSHUA. 


serve Siptah to steal the throne, and though Kasana had 
wrung her hands and shed tears when she heard that 
he meant to remove Pharaoh from his path, she grew 
calmer after the prince had represented that her own 
father had approved of his arrangements for the 
deliverance of Egypt from the hand of the king, her 
destroyer. 

The letter from the prince’s mother to Pharaoh, the 
mother who urged her own son to the most atrocious 
crimes, was the last thing Ephraim heard ; for it roused 
in the young Hebrew, who was wont to consider nothing 
purer and more sacred than the bonds which united 
parents and children, such fierce indignation, that he 
raised his fist threateningly and, springing up, opened 
his lips in muttered invective. 

He did not hear that Kasana made the prince 
swear that, if he attained the sovereign power, he would 
grant her first request. It should cost him neither 
money nor lands, and only give her the right to exer- 
cise mercy where her heart demanded it; for things 
were in store which must challenge the wrath of the 
gods and he must leave her to soothe it. 

Ephraim could not endure to see or hear more of 
these abominable things. 

For the first time he felt how great a danger he ran 
of being dragged into this marsh and becoming a lost, 
evil man ; but never, he thought, would he have been 
so corrupt, so worthless, as this prince. His uncle’s 
words again returned to his mind, and he now raised 
his head proudly and arched his chest as if to assure 
himself of his own unbroken vigor, saying meanwhile, 
with a long breath, that he was of too much worth to 
ruin himself for the sake of a wicked woman, even 


JOSHUA. 


233 


though, like Kasana, she was the fairest and most be- 
witching under the sun. 

Away, away from the neighborhood of this net, 
which threatened to entangle him in murder and every 
deed of infamy. 

Resolved to seek his people, he turned toward the 
gate of the camp, but after a few hasty steps paused, 
and a glance at the sky showed him that it was the 
second hour past midnight. Every surrounding object 
was buried in silence save that from the neighboring 
pens of the royal steeds, came the sound of the rattle 
of a chain, or of the stamp of a stallion’s hoof. 

If he risked escaping from the camp now, he could 
not fail to be seen and stopped. Prudence commanded 
him to curb his impatience and, as he glanced around, 
his eyes rested on the chamberlain’s tent from which 
the old slave had just emerged to look for his master, 
who was still waiting in the prince’s tent for his lord’s 
return. 

The old man had treated Ephraim kindly, and now 
asked him with good-natured urgency to come in and 
rest ; for the youth needed sleep. 

And Ephraim accepted the well-meant invitation. 
He felt for the first time how weary his feet were, and 
he had scarcely stretched himself upon the mat which 
the old slave — it was his own — spread on the floor of 
the tent for him, ere the feeling came over him that his 
limbs were relaxing; and yet he had expected to find 
here time and rest for calm deliberation. 

He began, too, to think of the future and his uncle’s 
commission. 

That he must join his people without delay was 
decided. If they escaped Pharaoh’s army, the others 


234 


JOSHUA. 


could do what they pleased, his duty was to summon his 
shepherds, servants, and the youths of his own age, and 
with them hurry to the mines to break Joshua’s chains 
and bring him back to his old father and the people 
who needed him. He already saw himself with a sling 
in his girdle and a battle-axe in his hand, rushing on in 
advance of the others, when sleep overpowered him 
and bound the sorely wearied youth so firmly and 
sweetly that even dreams remained aloof from his 
couch and when morning came the old slave was 
obliged to shake him to rouse him. 

The camp was already pervaded with bustling life. 
Tents were struck, asses and ox-carts laden, steeds 
curried and newly-shod, chariots washed, weapons and 
harnesses cleaned, breakfast was distributed and eaten. 

At intervals the blare of trumpets was heard in one 
direction, loudly shouted commands in another, and 
from the eastern portion of the camp echoed the chant- 
ing of the priests, who devoutly greeted the new-born 
sun-god. 

A gilded chariot, followed by a similar one, drove 
up to the costly purple tent beside Kasana’s, which 
active servants were beginning to take down. 

Prince Siptah and the chief-priest Ba'i had received 
Pharaoh’s permission to set off for Tanis, to fulfil the 
wish of a “ dying woman.” 

Soon after Ephraim took leave of the old slave and 
bade him give Kasana’s nurse the cloak and tell her 
that the messenger had followed her advice and his 
uncle’s. 

Then he set off on his walk. 

He escaped unchallenged from the Egyptian cam}) 
and, as he entered the wilderness, he heard the shout 


JOSHUA. 


235 


with which he called his shepherds in the pastures. 
The cry, resounding far over the plain, startled a spar- 
row-hawk which was gazing into the distance from a 
rock and, as the bird soared upward, the youth fancied 
that if he stretched out his arms, wings must unfold 
strong enough to bear him also through the air. Never 
had he felt so light and active, so strong and free, nay 
had the priest at this hour asked him the question 
whether he would accept the office of a captain of 
thousands in the Egyptian army, he would undoubtedly 
have answered, as he did before the ruined house of 
Nun, that his sole desire was to remain a shepherd and 
rule his flocks and servants. 

He was an orphan, but he had a nation, and where 
his people were was his home. 

Like a wanderer, who, after a long journey, sees his 
home in the distance, he quickened his pace. 

He had reached Tanis on the night of the new 
moon and the round silver shield which was paling in 
the morning light was the same which had then risen 
before his eyes. Yet it seemed as though years lay 
between his farewell of Miriam and the present hour, 
and the experiences of a life had been compressed into 
these few days. 

He had left his tribe a boy ; he returned a man ; yet, 
thanks to this one terrible night, he had remained un- 
changed, he could look those whom he loved and rev- 
erenced fearlessly in the face. 

Nay, more! 

He would show the man whom he most esteemed 
that he, too, Ephraim, could hold his head high. He 
would repay Joshua for what he had done, when he 


236 


JOSHUA. 


remained in chains and captivity that he, his nephew, 
might go forth as free as a bird. 

After hurrying onward an hour, he reached a ruined 
watch-tower, climbed to its summit, and saw, at a short 
distance beyond the mount of Baal-zephon, which had 
long towered majestically on the horizon, the glitter- 
ing northern point of the Red Sea. 

The storm, it is true, had subsided, but he perceive ! 
by the surging of its emerald surface that the sea was 
by no means calm, and single black clouds in the sky, 
elsewhere perfectly clear, seemed to indicate an ap- 
proaching tempest. 

He gazed around him asking himself what the 
leader of the people probably intended, if — as the 
prince had told Kasana — they had encamped between 
Pihahiroth — whose huts and tents rose before him on 
the narrow gulf the northwestern arm of the Red Sea 
thrust into the land — and the mount of Baal-zephon. 

Had Siptah lied in this too ? 

No. This time the malicious traitor had departed 
from his usual custom; for between the sea and the 
village, where the wind was blowing slender columns 
of smoke asunder, his falcon-eye discovered many 
light spots resembling a distant flock of sheep, and 
among and beside them a singular movement to and 
fro upon the sands. 

It was the camp of his people. 

How short seemed the distance that separated him 
from them ! 

Yet the nearer it was, the greater became his 
anxiety lest the great multitude, with the women and 
children, herds and tents, could not escape the vast 
army which must overtake them in a few hours. 


JOSHUA. 


237 


His heart shrank as he gazed around him; for 
neither to the east, where a deeper estuary was surg- 
ing, nor southward, where the Red Sea tossed its 
angry waves, nor even toward the north, whence 
Pharaoh’s army was marching, was escape possible. 
To the west lay the wilderness of Aean, and if the 
wanderers escaped in that direction, and were pressed 
farther, they would again enter Egyptian soil and the 
exodus would be utterly defeated. 

So there was nothing left save to risk a battle, and 
at the thought a chill ran through the youth’s veins; 
for he knew how badly armed, untrained, savage, un- 
manageable, and cowardly were the men of his race, 
and had witnessed the march of the powerful, well- 
equipped Egyptian army, with its numerous foot- 
soldiers and superb war-chariots. 

To him now, as to his uncle a short time before, 
his people seemed doomed to certain destruction, un- 
less succored by the God of his fathers. In former 
years, and just before his departure, Miriam, with spark- 
ling eyes and enthusiastic words, had praised the power 
and majesty of this omnipotent Lord, who preferred 
his people above all other nations ; but the lofty words 
of the prophetess had filled his childish heart with a 
slight fear of the unapproachable greatness and terrible 
wrath of this God. 

It had been easier for him to uplift his soul to the 
sun-god, when his teacher, a kind and merry-hearted 
Egyptian priest, led him to the temple of Pithom. In 
later years he had felt no necessity of appealing to any 
god; for he lacked nothing, and while other boys 
obeyed their parents’ commands, the shepherds, who 
well knew that the flocks they tended 'belonged to him, 


238 


JOSHUA. 


called him their young master, and first in jest, then in 
earnest, paid him all the honor due a ruler, which 
prematurely increased his self-importance and made 
him an obstinate fellow. 

He whom stalwart, strong men obeyed, was sufficient 
unto himself, and felt that others needed him and, as 
nothing was more difficult for him than to ask a favor, 
great or small, from any one, he rebelled against 
praying to a God so far off and high above him. 

But now, when his heart was oppressed by the ter- 
rible destiny that threatened his people, he was over- 
whelmed by the feeling that only the Greatest and 
Mightiest could deliver them from this terrible, un- 
speakable peril, as if no one could withstand this 
powerful army, save He whose might could destroy 
heaven and earth. 

What were they that the Most High, whom Miriam 
and Hosea described as so pre-eminently great, should 
care for them ? Yet his people numbered many 
thousands, and God had not disdained to make them 
His, and promise great things for them in the future. 
Now they were on the verge of destruction, and he, 
Ephraim, who came from the camp of the enemy, was 
perhaps the sole person who saw the full extent of the 
danger. 

Suddenly he was filled with the conviction that it 
was incumbent upon him, above all others, to tell the 
God of his fathers, — who perhaps in caring for earth 
and heaven, sun and stars, had forgotten the fate of His 
people — of the terrible danger impending, and beseech 
Him to save them. He was still standing on the top of 
the ruined tower, and raised his arms and face toward 
heaven. 


JOSHUA. 


239 


In the north he saw the black clouds which he had 
noticed in the blue sky swiftly massing and rolling 
hither and thither. The wind, which had subsided 
after sunrise, was increasing in strength and power, and 
rapidly becoming a storm. It swept across the isthmus 
in gusts, which followed one another more and more 
swiftly, driving before them dense clouds of yellow 
sand. 

He must lift up his voice loudly, that the God to 
whom he prayed might hear him in His lofty heaven, 
so, with all the strength of his young lungs, he shouted 
into the storm : 

“Adona'i, Adonai! Thou, whom they call Jehovah, 
mighty God of my fathers, hear me, Ephraim, a young 
inexperienced lad, of whom, in his insignificance, Thou 
hast probably never thought. I ask nothing for myself. 
But the people, whom Thou dost call Thine, are in sore 
peril. They have left durable houses and good pastures 
because Thou didst promise them a better and more 
beautiful land, and they trusted in Thee and Thy prom- 
ises. But now the army of Pharaoh is approaching, so 
great a host that our people will never be able to resist 
it. Thou must believe this, Eli, my Lord. I have seen 
it and been in its midst. So surely as I stand here, I 
know that it is too mighty for Thy people. Pharaoh’s 
power will crush them as the hoofs of the cattle trample 
the grain on the threshing-floor. And my people, who 
are also Thine, are encamped in a spot where Pharaoh’s 
warriors can cut them down from all directions, so that 
there is no way for them to fly, not one. I saw it dis- 
tinctly from this very spot. Hear me now, Adonai. 
But canst Thou hear my words, oh Lord, in such a 
tempest ? Surely Thou canst ; for they call Thee onv 
39 


240 


JOSHUA. 


nipotent and, if Thou dost hear me and dost understand 
the meaning of my words, Thou wilt see with Thy 
mighty eyes, if such is Thy will, that I speak the truth. 
Then Thou wilt surely remember the vow Thou didst 
make to the people through Thy servant Moses. 

“ Among the Egyptians, I have witnessed treachery 
and murder and shameful wiles ; their deeds have filled 
me, who am myself but a sinful, inexperienced youth, 
with horror and indignation. How couldst Thou, 
from whom all good is said to proceed, and whom 
Miriam calls truth itself, act like those abominable men 
and break faith with those who trusted in Thee ? I know, 
Thou great and mighty One, that this is far from Thee, 
nay, perhaps it is a sin even to cherish such a thought. 
Hear me, Adona'i ! Look northward at the troops of 
the Egyptians, who will surely soon leave their camp 
and march forward, and southward to the peril of Thy 
people, for whom escape is no longer possible, and 
Thou wilt rescue them by Thy omnipotence and great 
wisdom ; for Thou hast promised them a new country, 
and if they are destroyed, how can they reach it ?” 

With these words he finished his prayer, which, 
though boyish and incoherent, gushed from the inmost 
depths of his heart. Then he sprang with long leaps 
from the ruined tower to the barren plain at his feet, 
and ran southward as fleetly as if he were escaping 
from captivity a second time. He felt how the wind 
rushing from the north-east urged him forward, and 
told himself that it would also hasten the march of 
Pharaoh’s soldiers. Perhaps the leaders of his people 
did not yet know how vast was the military power that 
threatened them, and undervalued the danger in which 
their position placed them. But he saw it, and could 


JOSHUA. 


241 


give thejn every information. Haste was necessary, 
and he felt as though he had gained wings in this race 
with the storm. 

The village of Pihahiroth was soon gained, and 
while dashing by it without pausing, he noticed that its 
huts and tents were deserted by men and cattle. Per- 
haps its inhabitants had fled with their property to a 
place of safety before the advancing Egyptian troops 
or the hosts of his own people. 

The farther he went, the more cloudy became the 
sky, — which here so rarely failed to show a sunny vault 
of blue at noonday, — the more fiercely howled the tem- 
pest. His thick locks fluttered wildly around his 
burning head, he panted for breath, yet flew on, on, 
while his sandals seemed to him to scarcely touch the 
ground. 

The nearer he came to the sea, the louder grew the 
howling and whistling of the storm, the more furious 
the roar of the waves dashing against the rocks of Baal- 
zephon. Now — a short hour after he had left the 
tower — he reached the first tents of the camp, and the 
familiar cry: “Unclean!” as well as the mourning- 
robes of those whose scaly, disfigured faces looked 
forth from the ruins of the tents which the storm had 
overthrown, informed him that he had reached the 
lepers, whom Moses had commanded to remain outside 
the camp. 

Yet so great was his haste that, instead of making 
a circuit around their quarter, he dashed straight through 
it at his utmost speed. Nor did he pause even when a 
lofty palm, uprooted by the tempest, fell to the ground 
so close beside him that the fan-shaped leaves in its 
crown brushed his face. 


242 


JOSHUA. 


At last he gained the tents and pinfolds of his people, 
not a few of which had also been overthrown, and 
asked the first acquaintances he met for Nun, the father 
of his dead mother and of Joshua. 

He had gone down to the shore with Moses and 
other elders of the people. Ephraim followed him 
there, and the damp, salt sea-air refreshed him and 
cooled his brow. 

Yet he could not instantly get speech with him, so 
he collected his thoughts, and recovered his breath, 
while watching the men whom he sought talking eagerly 
with some gaily-clad Phoenician sailors. A youth like 
Ephraim might not venture to interrupt the grey-haired 
heads of the people in the discussion, which evidently 
referred to the sea; for the Hebrews constantly pointed 
to the end of the bay, and the Phoenicians sometimes 
thither, sometimes to the mountain and the sky, some- 
times to the north, the center of the still increasing 
tempest. 

A projecting \vall sheltered the old men from the 
hurricane, yet they found it difficult to stand erect, even 
while supported by their staves and clinging to the 
stones of the masonry. 

At last the conversation ended and while the youth 
saw the gigantic figure of Moses go with slow, yet 
firm steps among the leaders of the Hebrews down to 
the shore of the sea, Nun, supported by one of his 
shepherds, was working his way with difficulty, but as 
rapidly as possible toward the camp. He wore a 
mourning-robe, and while the others looked joyous and 
hopeful when they parted, his handsome face, framed 
by its snow-white beard and hair, had the expression of 
one whose mind and body were burdened by grief. 


JOSHUA. 


243 


Not until Ephraim called him did he raise his droop- 
ing leonine head, and when he saw him he started 
back in surprise and terror, and clung more firmly to 
the strong arm of the shepherd who supported him. 

Tidings of the cruel fate of his son and grandson 
had reached him through the freed slaves he had left in 
Tanis; and the old man had torn his garments, strewed 
ashes on his head, donned mourning robes, and grieved 
bitterly for his beloved, noble, only son and promising 
grandson. 

Now Ephraim was standing before him ; and after 
Nun had laid his hand on his shoulders, and kissed him 
again and again, he asked if his son was still alive and 
remembered him and his people. 

As soon as the youth had joyfully assured him that 
such was the case, Nun threw his arms around the 
boy’s shoulders, that henceforth his own blood, instead 
of a stranger, should protect him from the violence of 
the storm. 

He had grave and urgent duties to fulfil, from which 
nothing might withhold him. Yet as the fiery youth 
shouted into his ear, through the roar of the hurri- 
cane, on their way through the camp, that he would 
summon his shepherds and the companions of his own 
age to release Hosea, who now called himself Joshua, 
old Nun’s impetuous spirit awoke and, clasping Eph- 
raim closer to his heart, he cried out that though an old 
man he was not yet too aged to swing an axe and go 
with Ephraim’s youthful band to liberate his son. His 
eyes sparkled through his tears, and waving his free 
arm aloft, he cried : 

“ The God of my fathers, on whom I learned to 
rely, watches over His faithful people. Do you see the 


244 


JOSHUA. 


sand, sea-weed, and shells yonder at the end of the 
estuary ? An hour ago the place was covered with water, 
and roaring waves were dashing their white spray up- 
ward. That is the way, boy, which promises escape ; if 
the wind holds, the water — so the experienced Phoe- 
nicians assure us — will recede still farther toward the 
sea. Their god of the north wind, they say, is favorable 
to us, and their boys are already lighting a fire to him 
on the summit of Baal-zephon yonder, but we know 
that it is Another, Who is opening to us a path to the 
desert. We were in evil case, my boy !” 

“Yes, grandfather !” cried the youth. “ You were 
trapped like lions in the snare, and the Egyptian host 
— it passed me from the first man to the last — is 
mighty and unconquerable. I hurried as fast as my 
feet could carry me to tell you how many heavily-armed 
troops, bowmen, steeds, and chariots. ...” 

“ We know, we know,” the old man interrupted, 
“ but here we are.” 

He pointed to an overturned tent which his servants 
were trying to prop, and beside which an aged Hebrew, 
his father Elishama, wrapped in cloth, sat in the chair in 
which he was carried by bearers. 

Nun hastily shouted a few words and led Ephraim 
toward him. But while the youth was embracing his 
great-grandfather, who hugged and caressed him, Nun, 
with youthful vivacity, was issuing orders to the shep- 
herds and servants : 

“ Tet the tent fall, men ! The storm has begun the 
work for you ! Wrap the covering round the poles, 
load the carts and beasts of burden. Move briskly, 
You, Gaddi, Shamma, and Jacob, join the others ! The 
hour for departure has come ! Everybody must hasten to 


JOSHUA. 


2 45 


harness the animals, put them in the wagons, and prepare 
all things as fast as possible. The Almighty shows us 
the way, and every one must hasten, in His name and by 
the command of Moses. Keep strictly to the old order. 
We head the procession, then come the other tribes, 
lastly the strangers and leprous men and women. Re- 
joice, oh, ye people ; for our God is working a great 
miracle and making the sea dry land for us, His chosen 
people. Let everyone thank Him while working, and 
pray from the depths of the heart that He will continue 
to protect us. Let all who do not desire to be slain by 
the sword and crushed by the weight of Pharaoh’s 
chariots put forth their best strength and forget rest ! 
That will await us as soon as we have escaped the pres- 
ent peril. Down with the tent-cover yonder ; I’ll roll it 
up myself. Lay hold, boy ! Look across at the children of 
Manasseh, they are already packing and loading. That’s 
right, Ephraim, you know how to use your hands ! 
What more have we to do ! My head, my forgetful 
old head ! So much has come upon me at once ! 
You have nimble feet, Raphu ; — I undertook to warn 
the strangers to prepare for a speedy departure. Run 
quickly and hurry them, that they may not linger too 
far behind the people. Time is precious ! Lord, Lord, 
my God, extend Thy protecting hand over Thy people, 
and roll the waves still farther back with the tempest, 
Thy mighty breath ! Let every one pray silently while 
working, the Omnipresent One, Who sees the heart, will 
hear it. That load is too heavy for you, Ephraim, you 
are lifting beyond your strength. No. The youth has 
mastered it. Follow his example, men, and ye of 
Succoth, rejoice in your master’s strength.” 

The last words were addressed to Ephraim’s shep- 


246 


JOSHUA. 


herds, men and maid servants, most of whom shouted 
a greeting to him in the midst of their work, kissed his 
arm or hand, and rejoiced at his return. They were 
engaged in packing and wrapping their goods, and in 
gathering, harnessing, and loading the animals, which 
could only be kept together by blows and shouts. 

The people from Succoth wished to vie with their 
young master, those from Tanis with their lord’s grand- 
son, and the other owners of flocks and lesser men of 
the tribe of Ephraim, whose tents surrounded that of 
their chief Nun, did the same, in order not to be sur- 
passed by others; yet several hours elapsed ere all the 
tents, household utensils, and provisions for man and 
beast were again in their places on the animals and in 
the carts, and the aged, feeble and sick had been laid 
on litters or in wagons. 

Sometimes the gale bore from the distance to the 
spot where the Ephraimites were busily working the 
sound of Moses’ deep voice or the higher tones of 
Aaron. But neither they nor the men of the tribe of 
J udah heeded the monition ; for the latter were ruled 
by Hur and Naashon, and beside the former stood his 
newly-wedded wife Miriam. It was different with the 
other tribes and the strangers, to the obstinacy and 
cowardice of whose chiefs was due the present critical 
position of the people. 


CHAPTER XXII. 


To break through the center of the Etham line of 
fortifications and march toward the north-east along 


JOSHUA. 


2 47 


the nearest road leading to Palestine had proved im- 
possible ; but Moses’ second plan of leading the people 
around the Migdol of the South had also been baffled ; 
for spies had reported that the garrison of the latter 
had been greatly strengthened. Then the multitude 
had pressed around the man of God, declaring that 
they would rather return home with their families and 
appeal to Pharaoh’s mercy than to let themselves, their 
wives, and their families be slaughtered. 

Several days had been spent in detaining them ; but 
when other messengers brought tidings that Pharaoh 
was approaching with a powerful army the time seemed 
to have come when the wanderers, in the utmost peril, 
might be forced to break through the forts, and Moses 
exerted the full might of his commanding personality, 
Aaron the whole power of his seductive eloquence, 
while old Nun and Hur essayed to kindle the others 
with their own bold spirit. 

But the terrible news had robbed the majority of 
the last vestige of self reliance and trust in God, and 
they had already resolved to assure Pharaoh of their 
repentance when the messengers whom, without their 
leader’s knowledge, they had sent forth, returned, an- 
nouncing that the approaching army had been com- 
manded to spare no Hebrew, and to show by the sharp 
edge of the sword, even to those who sued for mercy, 
how Pharaoh punished the men by whose shameful 
sorcery misery and woe had come upon so many 
Egyptians. 

Then, too late, they became aware that to return 
would ensure more speedy destruction than to boldly 
press forward. But when the men capable of bearing 
arms followed Hur and Nun to the Migdol of the 


248 


JOSHUA. 


South, they turned to fly at the defiant blare of the 
Egyptian war trumpets. When they came back to the 
camp with weary limbs, depressed and disheartened, 
new and exaggerated reports of Pharaoh’s military 
force had reached the people, and now terror and 
despair had taken possession of the bolder men. 
Every admonition was vain, every threat derided, and 
the rebellious people had forced their leaders to go 
with them till, after a short march, they reached the 
Red Sea, whose deep green waves had forced them to 
pause in their southward flight. 

So they had encamped between Pihahiroth and 
Baal-zephon, and here the leaders again succeeded in 
turning the attention of the despairing people to the 
God of their fathers. 

In the presence of sure destruction, from which no 
human power could save them, they had again learned 
to raise their eyes to Heaven; but Moses’ soul had 
once more been thrilled with anxiety and compassion 
for the poor, sorely afflicted bands who had followed 
his summons. During the night preceding, he had 
climbed one of the lower peaks of Baal-zephon and, 
amid the raging of the tempest and the roar of the hiss- 
ing surges, sought the Lord his God, and felt his pres- 
ence near him. He, too, had not wearied of pleading the 
need of his people and adjuring him to save them. 

At the same hour Miriam, the wife of Hur, had 
gone to the sea-shore where, under a solitary palm- 
tree, she addressed the same petition to her God, 
whose trusted servant she still felt herself. Here she 
besought Him to remember the women and children 
who, trusting in Him, had wandered forth into distant 
lands. She had also knelt to pray for the friend of her 


JOSHUA. 


249 


youth, languishing in terrible captivity; but had only 
cried in low, timid accents : “ Oh, Lord, do not forget 
the hapless Hosea, whom at Thy bidding I called 
Joshua, though he showed himself less obedient to Thy 
will than Moses, my brother, and Hur, my husband. 
Remember also the youthful Ephraim, the grandson of 
Nun, Thy faithful servant.” 

Then she returned to the tent of the chief, her 
husband, while many a lowly man and poor anxious 
woman, before their rude tents or on their thin, tear- 
drenched mats, uplifted their terrified souls to the God 
of their fathers and besought His care for those who 
were dearest to their hearts. 

So, in this night of utmost need, the camp had be- 
come a temple in which high and low, the heads of 
families and the housewives, masters and slaves, nay, 
even the afflicted lepers sought and found their God. 

At last the morning came on which Ephraim had 
shouted his childish prayer amid the roaring of the 
storm, and the waters of the sea had begun to recede. 

When the Hebrews beheld with their own eyes the 
miracle that the Most High was working for His chosen 
people, even the discouraged and despairing became 
believing and hopeful. 

Not only the Ephraimites, but the other tribes, the 
foreigners, and lepers felt the influence of the newly- 
awakened joyous confidence, which urged each indi- 
vidual to put forth all his powers to prepare for the 
journey and, for the first time, the multitude gathered 
and formed into ranks without strife, bickering, deeds 
of violence, curses, and tears. 

After sunset Moses, holding his staff uplifted, and 


25 ° 


JOSHUA. 


Aaron, singing and praying, entered at the head of the 
procession the end of the bay. 

The storm, which continued to rage with the same 
violence, had swept the water out of it and blew the 
flame and smoke of the torches carried by the tribes 
toward the south-west. 

The chief leaders, on whom all eyes rested with 
trusting eagerness, were followed by old Nun and the 
Ephraimites. The bottom of the sea on which they 
trod was firm, moist sand, on which even the herds 
could walk as if it were a smooth road, sloping gently 
toward the sea. 

Ephraim, in whom the elders now saw the future 
chief, had been entrusted, at his grandfather’s sugges- 
tion, with the duty of seeing that the procession did 
not stop and, for this purpose, had been given a 
leader’s staff; for the fishermen whose huts stood at 
the foot of Baal-zephon, like the Phoenicians, believed 
that when the moon reached her zenith the sea would 
return to its old bed, and therefore all delay was to be 
avoided. 

The youth enjoyed the storm, and when his locks 
fluttered and he battled victoriously against the gale 
in rushing hither and thither, as his office required, it 
seemed to him a foretaste of the venture he had in 
view. 

So the procession moved on through the darkness 
which had speedily followed the dusk of evening. The 
acrid odor of the sea-weed and fishes which had been 
left stranded pleased the boy, — who felt that he had 
matured into manhood, — better than the sweet fragrance 
of spikenard in Kasana’s tent. Once the memory of it 
flashed through his brain, but with that exception there 


JOSHUA. 


2 5I 


was not a moment during these hours which gave him 
time to think of her. 

He had his hands full of work ; sometimes a heap 
of sea-weed flung on the path by a wave must be 
removed; sometimes a ram, the leader of a flock, refused 
to step on the wet sand and must be dragged forward 
by the horns, or cattle and beasts of burden must be 
driven through a pool of water from which they shrank. 

Often, too, he was obliged to brace his shoulder 
against a heavily-laden cart, whose wheels had sunk 
too deeply into the soft sand ; and when, even during 
this strange, momentous march, two bands of shep- 
herds began to dispute about precedence close to the 
Egyptian shore, he quickly settled the dispute by 
making them draw lots to decide which party should 
go first. 

Two little girls who, crying bitterly, refused to 
wade through a pool of water, while their mother was 
busy with the infant in her arms, he carried with 
prompt decision through the shallow puddle, and the 
cart with a broken wheel he had moved aside by the 
light of the torches and commanded some stalwart 
bondmen, who were carrying only small bundles, to load 
themselves with the sacks and bales, nay, even the frag- 
ments of the vehicle. He uttered a word of cheer to 
weeping women and children and, when the light of a 
torch fell upon the face of a companion of his own age, 
whose aid he hoped to obtain for the release of Joshua, 
he briefly told him that there was a bold adventure in 
prospect which he meant to dare in concert with him. 

The torch-bearers who usually headed the procession 
this time were obliged to close its ranks, for the storm 
raging from the northeast would have blown the smoke 


252 


JOSHUA. 


into the people’s faces. They stood on the Egyptian 
shore, and already the whole train had passed them 
except the lepers who, following the strangers, were the 
last of the whole multitude. 

These “ strangers ” were a motley crew, comprising 
Asiatics of Semitic blood, who had escaped from the 
bondage or severe punishments which the Egyptian 
law imposed, traders who expected to find among the 
wanderers purchasers of their wares, or Shasu shep- 
herds, whose return was prohibited by the officials on 
the frontier. Ephraim had much trouble with them, 
for they refused to leave the firm land until the lepers 
had been forced to keep farther away from them ; yet 
the youth, with the aid of the elders of the tribe of 
Benjamin, who preceded them, brought them also to 
obedience by threatening them with the prediction of 
the Phoenicians and the fishermen that the moon, 
when it had passed its zenith, would draw the sea back 
to its old bed. 

Finally he persuaded the leader of the lepers, who 
had once been an Egyptian priest, to keep at least half 
the distance demanded. 

Meanwhile the tempest had continued to blow with 
increased violence, and its howling and whistling, 
blended with the roar of the dashing waves and the 
menacing thunder of the surf, drowned the elders’ 
shouts of command, the terrified shrieks of the chil- 
dren, the lowing and bleating of the trembling herds, 
and the whining of the dogs. Ephraim’s voice could 
be heard only by those nearest and, moreover, many 
of the torches were extinguished, while others were 
kept burning with the utmost difficulty. Seeking to 
recover his wind and get a little rest, he walked slowly 


JOSHUA. 


2 53 


for a time over the damp sand behind the last lepers, 
when he heard some one call his name and, turning, he 
saw one of his former playmates, who was returning 
from a reconnoitring expedition and who, with the sweat 
pouring from his brow and panting breath, shouted into 
the ear of the youth, in whose hand he saw the staff of 
a leader, that Pharaoh’s chariots were approaching at 
the head of his army. He had left them at Pihahiroth 
and, if they did not stop there to give the other troops 
time to join them, they might overtake the fugitives at 
any moment. With these words he darted past the 
lepers to join the leaders ; but Ephraim stopped in the 
middle of the road, pressing his hand upon his brow, 
while a new burden of care weighed heavily upon his 
soul. 

He knew that the approaching army would crush 
the men, women, and children whose touching fear 
and helplessness he had just beheld, as a man’s foot 
tramples on an ant-hill, and again every instinct of his 
being urged him to pray, while from his oppressed 
heart the imploring cry rose through the darkness : 

“ Eli, Eli, great God most high ! Thou knowest — 
for 1 have told Thee, and Thine all-seeing eye must 
perceive it, spite of the darkness of this night — the 
strait of Thy people, whom Thou hast promised to lead 
into a new country. Remember Thy vow, Jehovah! 
Be merciful unto us, Thou great and mighty one ! Our 
foe is approaching with resistless power ! Stay him ! 
Save us ! Protect the poor women and children ! 
Save us, be merciful to us !” 

During this prayer he had raised his eyes heaven- 
ward and saw on the summit of Baal-zephon the red 
blaze of a fire. It had been lighted by the Phoenicians 


254 


JOSHUA. 


to make the Baal of the north-wind favorable to the 
men of kindred race and hostile to the hated Egyptians. 

This was a kindly deed; but he put his trust in 
another God and, as his eye glanced over the vault of 
heaven and noted the grey and black storm-clouds 
scurrying, gathering, parting, and then rushing in new 
directions, he perceived between two dispersing masses 
of clouds the silvery light of the full moon, which had 
now attained her zenith. 

Fresh anxiety assailed him ; for he remembered the 
prediction of men skilled in the changes of winds and 
waves. If the sea should now return to its ancient bed, 
his people would be lost; for there was no escape, 
even toward the north, where deep pools of water were 
standing amid the mire and cliffs. Should the waves 
flow back within the next hour, the seed of Abraham 
would be effaced from the earth, as writing inscribed 
on wax disappears from the tablet under the pressure 
of a warm hand. 

Yet was not this people thus marked for destruc- 
tion, the nation which the Lord had chosen for His 
own ? Could He deliver it into the hand of those who 
were also His own foes ? 

No, no, a thousand times no ! 

And the moon, which was to cause this destruction, 
had but a short time before been the ally of his flight 
and favored him. Only let him keep up his hope and 
faith and not lose confidence. 

Nothing, nothing was lost as yet. 

Come what might, the whole nation need not 
perish, and his own tribe, which marched at the head of 
the procession, certainly would not; for many must 
have reached the opposite shore, nay, perhaps more 


JOSHUA. 


2 55 


than he supposed ; for the bay was not wide, and even 
the lepers, the last of the train, had already advanced 
some distance across the wet sand. 

Ephraim now remained alone behind them all to 
listen to the approach of the hostile chariots. He laid 
his ear to the ground on the shore of the bay, and he 
could trust to the sharpness of his hearing ; how often, 
in this attitude, he had caught the distant tramp of 
stray cattle or, while hunting, the approach of a herd 
of antelopes or gazelles. 

As the last, he was in the greatest danger ; but 
what cared he for that ? 

How gladly he would have sacrificed his young life 
to save the others ! 

Since he had held in his hand the leader’s staff, it 
seemed to him as if he had assumed the duty of watch- 
ing over his people, so he listened and listened till he 
could hear a slight trembling of the ground and finally 
a low rumble. That was the foe, that must be Pha- 
raoh’s chariots, and how swiftly the proud steeds 
whirled them forward. 

Springing up as if a lash had struck him, he dashed 
on to urge the others to hasten. 

How oppressively sultry the air had grown, spite of 
the raging storm which extinguished so many torches ! 
The moon was concealed by clouds, but the flickering 
fire on the summit of the lofty height of Baal-zephon 
blazed brighter and brighter. The sparks that rose 
from the midst of the flames glittered as they swept 
westward ; for the wind now came more from the 
east. 

Scarcely had he noticed this, when he hurried back 
to the boys bearing pans of pitch who closed the pro- 


JOSHUA. 


256 

cession, to command them in the utmost haste to fill 
the copper vessels afresh and see that the smoke rose in 
dense, heavy clouds ; for, he said to himself, the storm 
will drive the smoke into the faces of the stallions who 
draw the chariots and frighten or stop them. 

No means seemed to him too insignificant, every 
moment that could be gained was precious ; and as soon 
as he had convinced himself that the smoke-clouds 
were pouring densely from the vessels and making it 
difficult to breathe the air of the path over which the 
people had passed, he hurried forward, shouting to 
the elders whom he overtook that Pharaoh’s chariots 
were close at hand and the march must be hastened. 
At once pedestrians, bearers, drivers, and shepherds 
exerted all their strength to advance faster ; and though 
the wind, which blew more and more from the east, 
impeded their progress, all struggled stoutly against it, 
and dread of their approaching pursuers doubled their 
strength. 

The youth seemed to the heads of the tribes, who 
nodded approval wherever he appeared, like a shep- 
herd dog guarding and urging the flock ; and when he 
had slipped through the moving bands and battled his 
way forward against the storm, the east wind bore to his 
ears as if in reward a strange shout ; for the nearer he 
came to its source, the louder it rang, and the more 
surely he perceived that it was a cry of joy and exulta- 
tion, the first that had burst from a Hebrew’s breast for 
many a long day. 

It refreshed Ephraim like a cool drink after long 
thirsting, and he could not refrain from shouting aloud 
and crying joyously to the others : “ Saved, saved !” 

Two tribes had already reached the eastern shore 


JOSHUA. 


257 


of the bay and were raising the glad shouts which, with 
the fires blazing in huge pans on the shore, kindled the 
courage of the approaching fugitives and braced their 
failing strength. Ephraim saw by their light the 
majestic figure of Moses on a hill by the sea, extending 
his staff over the waters, and the spectacle impressed 
him, like all the other fugitives, from the highest to the 
lowest, more deeply than aught else and strongly in- 
creased the courage of his heart. This man was 
indeed the trusted servant of the Most High, and so 
long as he held his staff uplifted, the waves seemed 
spell-bound, and through him God forbade their re- 
turn. 

He, Ephraim, need no longer appeal to the Omni- 
potent One — that was the appointed task of this great 
and exalted personage ; but he must continue to fulfil 
his little duty of watching the progress of indivi- 
duals. 

Back against the stream of fugitives to the lepers 
and torch-bearers he hastened, shouting to each division, 
“ Saved ! Saved ! They have gained the goal. Moses’ 
staff is staying the waves. Many have already reached 
the shore. Thank the Lord ! Forward, that you, too, 
may join in the rejoicing ! Fix your eyes on the two 
red beacons ! The rescued ones lighted them ! The 
servant of the Lord is standing between them with up- 
lifted staff.” 

Then, kneeling on the wet sand, he again pressed 
his ear to the ground, and now heard distinctly, close 
at hand, the rattle of wheels and the swift beat of 
horses’ hoofs. 

But while still listening, the noise gradually ceased, 
and he heard nothing save the howling of the furious 


JOSHUA. 


258 

storm and the threatening dash of the surging waves, 
or a single cry borne by the east wind. 

The chariots had reached the dry portion of the 
bay and lingered some time ere they continued theii 
way along this dangerous path ; but suddenly the 
Egyptian war-cry rang out, and the rattle of wheels 
was again heard. They advanced more slowly than 
before — but faster than the people could walk. 

For the Egyptians also the road remained dry ; but 
if his people only kept a short distance in advance he 
need feel no anxiety; during the night the rescued 
tribes could disperse among the mountains and hide 
in places where no chariots nor horses could follow. 
Moses knew this region where he had lived so long as 
a fugitive ; it was only necessary to inform him of the 
close vicinity of the foe. So he trusted one of his 
play-fellows of the tribe of Benjamin with the message, 
and the latter had not far to go to reach the shore. 
He himself remained behind to watch the approaching 
army ; for already, without stooping or listening, spite 
of the storm raging around him, he heard the rattle of 
wheels and the neighing of the horses. But the lepers, 
whose ears also caught the sound, wailed and lamented, 
feeling themselves in imagination flung to the ground, 
crushed by the chariots, or crowded into a watery 
grave, for the pathway had grown narrower and the 
sea seemed to be trying in earnest to regain the land it 
had lost. 

The men and cattle could no longer advance in 
ranks as wide as before, and while the files of the 
hurrying bodies narrowed they lengthened, and pre- 
cious time was lost. Those on the right were already 
wading through the rising water in haste and terror ; 


JOSHUA. 


259 


for already the commands of the Egyptian leaders were 
heard in the distance. 

But the enemy was evidently delayed, and Ephraim 
easily perceived the cause of their diminished speed ; 
for the road constantly grew softer and the narrow 
wheels of the chariots cut deeply into it and perhaps 
sank to the axles. 

Protected by the darkness, he glided forward toward 
the pursuers, as far as he could, and heard here a curse, 
yonder a fierce command to ply the lash more vigor- 
ously ; at last he distinctly heard one leader exclaim to 

the man next him : 

* 

“ Accursed folly ! If they had only let us start 
before noon, and not waited until the omen had been 
consulted and Anna had been installed with all due 
solemnity in Bai’s place, it would have been easy work, 
and we should have caught them like a flock of quail ! 
The chief-priest was wont to bear himself stoutly in the 
field, and now he gives up the command because a 
dying woman touches his heart.” 

“ Siptah’s mother !” said another soothingly. “ Yet, 
after all, twenty princesses ought not to have turned 
him from his duty to us. Had he remained, there 
would have been no need of scourging our steeds to 
death, and that at an hour when every sensible leader 
lets his men gather round the camp-fires to eat their 
suppers and play draughts. Look to the horses, Heter ! 
We are fast in the sand again !” 

A loud out-cry rose behind the first chariot, and 
Ephraim heard another voice shout : 

“ Forward, if it costs the horses their lives !” 

“ If return were possible,” said the commander of 
the chariot-soldiers, a relative of the king, “ I would go 


26 o 


JOSHUA. 


back now. But as matters are, one would tumble over 
the other. So forward, whatever it may cost. We are 
close on their heels. Halt ! Halt ! That accursed 
stinging smoke ! Wait, you dogs ! As soon as the 
pathway widens, we’ll run you down with scant cere- 
mony, and may the gods deprive me of a day of life 
for each one I spare ! Another torch out ! One can’t 
see one’s hand before one’s face ! At a time like this a 
beggar’s crutch would be better than a leader’s staff.” 

“ And an executioner’s noose round the neck rather 
than a gold chain !” said another with a fierce oath. 
“ If the moon would only appear again ! Because the 
astrologers predicted that it would shine in full 
splendor from evening till morning, I myself advised 
the late departure, turning night into day. If it were 
only lighter !....” 

But this sentence remained unfinished, for a gust of 
wind, bursting like a wild beast from the south-eastern 
ravine of Mount Baal-zephon, rushed upon the fugitives, 
and a high wave drenched Ephraim from head to 
foot. 

Gasping for breath, he flung back his hair and 
wiped his eyes ; but loud cries of terror rang from the 
lips of the Egyptians behind him ; for the same wave 
that struck the youth had hurled the foremost chariots 
into the sea. 

Ephraim began to fear for his people and, while 
running forward to join them again, a brilliant flash of 
lightning illumined the bay, Mount Baal-zephon, and 
every surrounding object. The thunder was somewhat 
long in following, but the storm soon came nearer, and 
at last the lightning no longer flashed through the 
darkness in zigzag lines, but in shapeless sheets of 


JOSHUA. 


261 


flame, and ere they faded the deafening crash of the 
thunder pealed forth, reverberating in wild uproar amid 
the hard, rocky precipices of the rugged mountain, and 
dying away in deep, muttering echoes along the end 
of the bay and the shore. 

Whenever the clouds, menacing destruction, dis- 
charged their lightnings, sea and land, human beings 
and animals, far and near, were illumined by the brilliant 
glare, while the waters and the sky above were tinged 
with a sulphurous yellow hue through which the vivid 
lightning shone and flamed as through a wall of yellow 
glass. 

Ephraim now thought he perceived that the blackest 
thunder-clouds came from the south and not from the 
north, but the glare of the lightning showed behind 
him a span of frightened horses rushing into the sea, 
one chariot shattered against another, and farther on 
several jammed firmly together to the destruction of 
their occupants, while they barred the progress of 
others. 

Yet the foe still advanced, and the space which 
separated pursued and pursuers did not increase. But 
the confusion among the latter had become so great 
that the warriors’ cries of terror and their leaders’ 
shouts of encouragement and menace were distinctly 
heard whenever the fierce crashing of the thunder died 
away. 

Yet, black as were the clouds on the southern 
horizon, fiercely as the tempest raged, the gloomy sky 
still withheld its floods and the fugitives were wet, not 
with the water from the clouds but by the waves of the 
sea, whose surges constantly dashed higher and more 
and more frequently washed the dry bed of the bay. 


26 2 


JOSHUA. 


Narrower and narrower grew the pathway, and 
with it the end of the procession. 

Meanwhile the flames blazing in the pitch pans 
continued to show the terrified fugitives the goal of 
escape and remind them of Moses and the staff God 
had given him. Every step brought them nearer to it. 

Now a loud shout of joy announced that the tribe of 
Benjamin had also reached the shore ; but they had at 
last been obliged to wade, and were drenched by the 
foaming surf. It had cost unspeakable effort to save 
the oxen from the surging waves, get the loaded carts 
forward, and keep the cattle together; but now man 
and beast stood safe on shore. Only the strangers 
and the lepers were still to be rescued. The latter 
possessed no herds of their own, but the former had 
many and both sheep and cattle were so terrified by 
the storm that they struggled against passing through 
the water, now a foot deep over the road. Ephraim 
hurried to the shore, called on the shepherds to follow 
him and, under his direction, they helped drive the 
herds forward. 

The attempt was successful and, amid the thunder 
and lightning, greeted with loud cheers, the last man 
and the last head of cattle reached the land. 

The lepers were obliged to wade through water 
rising to their knees and at last to their waists and, ere 
they had gained the shore, the sluices of heaven opened 
and the rain poured in torrents. Yet they, too, arrived 
at the goal and though many a mother who had carried 
her child a long time in her arms or on her shoulder, 
fell upon her knees exhausted on the land, and many 
a hapless sufferer who, aided by a stronger companion 
in misery, had dragged the carts through the yielding 


JOSHUA. 


263 


sand or wading in the water carried a litter, felt his 
disfigured head burn with fever, they, too, escaped 
destruction. 

They were to wait beyond the palm-trees, whose 
green foliage appeared on the hilly ground at the edge 
of some springs near the shore ; the others were to be 
led farther into the country to begin, at a given signal, 
the journey toward the southeast into the mountains, 
through whose inhospitable stony fastnesses a regular 
army and the war-chariots could advance only with the 
utmost difficulty. 

Hur had assembled his shepherds and they stood 
armed with lances, slings, and short swords, ready to 
attack the enemy who ventured to step on shore. 
Horses and men were to be cut down and a high wall 
was to be made of the fragments of the chariots to bar 
the way of the pursuing Egyptians. 

The pans of burning pitch on the shore were 
shielded and fed so industriously that neither the 
pouring rain nor the wind extinguished them. They 
were to light the shepherds who had undertaken to at- 
tack the chariot-soldiers, and were commanded by old 
Nun, Hur, and Ephraim. 

But they waited in vain for the pursuers, and when 
the youth, first of all, perceived by the light of the 
torches that the way by which the rescued fugitives 
had come was now a wide sea, and the smoke was 
blown toward the north instead of toward the south- 
west — it was at the time of the first morning watch — 
his heart, surcharged with joy and gratitude, sent forth 
the jubilant shout : Look at the pans. The wind has 
shifted ! It is driving the sea northward. Pharaoh’s 
army has been swallowed by the waves 1” 


264 


JOSHUA. 


The group of rescued Hebrews remained silent for 
a short time; but suddenly Nun’s loud voice ex- 
claimed : 

“He has seen aright, children ! What are we 
mortals ! Lord, Lord ! Stern and terrible art Thou in 
judgment upon Thy foes !” 

Here loud cries interrupted him ; for at the springs 
where Moses leaned exhausted against a palm-tree, 
and Aaron was resting with many others, the people 
had also perceived what Ephraim had noticed — and 
from lip to lip ran the glad, terrible, incredible, yet true 
tidings, which each passing moment more surely con- 
firmed. 

Many an eye was raised toward the sky, across 
which the black clouds were rushing farther and 
farther northward. 

The rain was ceasing ; instead of the lightning and 
thunder only a few pale flashes were seen over the 
isthmus and the distant sea at the north, while in the 
south the sky was brightening. 

At last the setting moon emerged from the grey 
clouds, and her peaceful light silvered the heights of 
Baal-zephon and the shore of the bay, whose bottom 
was once more covered with tossing waves. 

The raging, howling storm had passed into the low 
sighing of the morning breeze* and the sea, which had 
dashed against the rocks like a roaring wild-beast, now 
lay quivering with broken strength at the stone base of 
the mountain. 

For a short time the sea still spread a dark pall 
over the many Egyptian corpses, but the paling 
moon, ere her setting, splendidly embellished the 
briny resting-place of a king and his nobles ; for her 


JOSHUA. 


265 


rays illumined and bordered their coverlet, the sea, 
with a rich array of sparkling diamonds in a silver 
setting. 

While the east was brightening and the sky had 
clothed itself in the glowing hues of dawn, the camp 
had been pitched ; but little time remained for a hasty 
meal for, shortly after sunrise, the gong had summoned 
the people and, as soon as they gathered near the 
springs, Miriam swung her timbrel, shaking the bells 
and striking the calf-skin till it resounded again. As 
she moved lightly forward, the women and maidens 
followed her in the rhythmic step of the dance; but 
she sang : 

“ I will sing unto the Lord, for he hath triumphed 
gloriously : the horse and his rider hath he thrown into 
the sea. 

“ The Lord is my strength and song, and he is 
become my salvation : he is my God, and I will pre- 
pare him an habitation; my father’s God, and I will 
exalt him. 

“ The Lord is a man of war : the Lord is his name. 

“ Pharaoh’s chariots and his host hath he cast into 
the sea : his chosen captains also are drowned in the 
Red Sea. 

“ The depths have covered them : they sank into the 
bottom as a stone. 

“ Thy right hand, O Lord, is become glorious in 
power : thy right hand, O Lord, hath dashed in pieces 
the enemy. 

“ And in the greatness of thine excellency thou hast 
overthrown them that rose up against thee : thou 
sentest forth thy wrath, which consumed them as 
stubble. 


266 


JOSHUA. 


“ And with the blast of thy nostrils the waters were 
gathered together, the floods stood upright as an heap, 
and the depths were congealed in the heart of the sea. 

“ The enemy said, I will pursue, I will overtake, I 
will divide the spoil; my lust shall be satisfied upon 
them; I will draw my sword, my hand shall destroy 
them. 

“ Thou didst blow with thy wind, the sea covered 
them : they sank as lead in the mighty waters. 

“ Who is like unto thee, O Lord, among the gods ? 
Who is like thee, glorious in holiness, fearful in praises, 
doing wonders ? 

“Thou stretchedst out thy right hand, the earth 
swallowed them. 

“ Thou, in thy mercy hast led forth the people which 
thou hast redeemed : thou hast guided them in thy 
strength unto thy holy habitation.” 

Men and women joined in the song, when she re- 
peated the words : 

“ I will sing unto the Lord, for he hath triumphed 
gloriously : the horse and his rider hath he thrown into 
the sea.” 

This song and this hour of rejoicing were never for- 
gotten by the Hebrews, and each heart was filled with 
the glory of God and the glad and grateful anticipation 
of better, happier days. 


CHAPTER XXIII. 


The hymn of praise had died away, but though the 
storm had long since raged itself into calmness, the 


JOSHUA. 


267 


morning sky, which had been beautiful in the rosy flush 
of dawn, was again veiled by grey mists, and a strong 
wind still blew from the southwest, lashing the sea and 
shaking and swaying the tops of the palm-trees beside 
the springs. 

The rescued people had paid due honor to the 
Most High, even the most indifferent and rebellious 
had joined in Miriam’s song of praise ; yet, when the 
ranks of the dancers approached the sea, many left the 
procession to hurry to the shore, which presented many 
attractions. 

Hundreds had now gathered on the strand, where 
the waves, like generous robbers, washed ashore the 
booty they had seized during the night. 

Even the women did not allow the wind to keep 
them back; for the two strongest impulses of the 
human heart, avarice and the longing for vengeance, 
drew them to the beach. 

Some new object of desire appeared every moment ; 
here lay the corpse of a warrior, yonder his shattered 
chariot. If the latter had belonged to a man of rank, 
its gold or silver ornaments were torn off, while the 
short sword or battle-axe was drawn from the girdle of 
the lifeless owner, and men and women of low degree, 
male and female slaves belonging to the Hebrews and 
foreigners, robbed the corpses of the clasps and circlets 
of the precious metal, or twisted the rings from the 
swollen fingers of the drowned. 

The ravens which had followed the wandering 
tribes and vanished during the storm, again appeared 
and, croaking, struggled against the wind to maintain 
their places above the prey whose scent had attracted 
them. 


268 


JOSHUA. 


But the dregs of the fugitive hordes were still more 
greedy than they, and wherever the sea washed a costly 
ornament ashore, there were fierce outcries and angry 
quarrelling. The leaders kept aloof ; the people, they 
thought, had a right to this booty, and whenever one 
of them undertook to control their rude greed, he 
received no obedience. 

The pass to which the Egyptians had brought 
them within the last few hours had been so terrible, 
that even the better natures among the Hebrews did 
not think of curbing the thirst for vengeance. Even 
grey-bearded men of dignified bearing, and wives and 
mothers whose looks augured gentle hearts thrust back 
the few hapless foes who had succeeded in reaching 
the land on the ruins of the war-chariots or baggage- 
wagons. With shepherds’ crooks and travelling staves, 
knives and axes, stones and insults they forced their 
hands from the floating wood, and the few who never- 
theless reached the land were flung by the furious mob 
into the sea which had taken pity on them in vain. 

Their wrath was so great, and vengeance so sacred 
a duty, that no one thought of the respect, the pity, the 
consideration, which are misfortune’s due, and not a 
word was uttered to appeal to generosity or compassion 
or even to remind the people of the profit which might 
be derived from holding the rescued soldiers as prisoners 
of war. 

“ Death to our mortal foes ! Destruction to them ! 
Down with them! Feed the fishes with them! You 
drove us into the sea with our children, now try the 
salt waves yourselves !” 

Such were the shouts that rose everywhere, and 
which no one opposed, not even Miriam and Ephraim, 


JOSHUA. 269 

who had also gone down to the shore to witness the 
scene it presented. 

The maiden had become the wife of Hur, but her 
new condition had made little change in her nature and 
conduct. The fate of her people and the intercourse 
with God, whose prophetess she felt herself to be, were 
still her highest aims. Now that all for which she 
had hoped and prayed was fulfilled ; now that at the 
first great triumph of her efforts she had expressed the 
feelings of the faithful in her song, she felt as if she were 
the leader of the grateful multitude at whose head 
she had marched singing and as if she had attained the 
goal of her life. 

Ephraim had reminded her of Hosea and, while 
talking with him about the prisoner, she moved on as 
proudly as a queen, answering the greetings of the 
throng with majestic dignity. Her eyes sparkled with 
joy, and her features wore an expression of compassion 
only at brief intervals, when the youth spoke of the 
greatest sufferings which he had borne with his uncle. 
She doubtless still remembered the man she had loved, 
but he was no longer necessary to the lofty goal of her 
aspirations. 

Ephraim had just spoken of the beautiful Egyptian, 
who had loved Hosea and at whose intercession the 
prisoner’s chains had been removed, when loud outcries 
were heard at a part of the strand where many of the 
people had gathered. Shouts of joy mingled with yells 
of fury ; and awakened the conjecture that the sea had 
washed some specially valuable prize ashore. 

Curiosity drew both to the spot, and as Miriam’s 
stately bearing made the throng move respectfully 
aside, they soon saw the mournful contents of a large 


270 


JOSHUA. 


travelling-chariot, which had lost its wheels. The linen 
canopy which had protected it was torn away, and 
on the floor lay two elderly Egyptian women ; a third, 
who was much younger, leaned against the back of 
the vehicle thus strangely transformed into a boat. Her 
companions lay dead in the water which had covered 
its floor, and several Hebrew women were in the 
act of tearing the costly gold ornaments from the 
neck and arms of one of the corpses. Some chance 
had preserved this young woman’s life, and she was 
now giving her rich jewels to the Israelites. Her 
pale lips and slender, half-frozen hands trembled as 
she did so, and in low, musical tones she promised 
the robbers to yield them all she possessed and pay 
a large ransom, if they would spare her. She was so 
young, and she had shown kindness to a Hebrew — 
surely they might listen to her. 

It was a touching entreaty, but so often interrupted 
by threats and curses that only a few could hear it. 
Just as Ephraim and Miriam reached the shore she 
shrieked aloud — a rude hand had tom the gold serpent 
from her ear. 

The cry pierced the youth’s heart like a dagger- 
thrust and his cheeks paled, for he recognized Kasana. 

The bodies beside her were those of her nurse and 
the wife of the chief priest Ba'i. 

Scarcely able to control himself, Ephraim thrust 
aside the men who separated him from the object of 
the moment’s assault, sprang on the sand-hill at whose 
foot the chariot had rested, and shouted with glowing 
cheeks in wild excitement : 

“ Back ! Woe to any one who touches her!” 

But a Hebrew woman, the wife of a brickmaker 


JOSHUA. 


2 7 


whose child had died in terrible convulsions during the 
passage through the sea, had already snatched the 
dagger from her girdle, and with the jeering cry: 
“ This for my little Ruth, you jade !” dealt her a blow 
in the back. Then she raised the tiny blood-stained 
weapon for a second stroke ; but ere she could give her 
enemy another thrust, Ephraim flung himself between 
her and her victim and wrenched the dagger from her 
grasp. Then planting himself before the wounded 
girl, he swung the blade aloft exclaiming in loud, 
threatening tones : 

“ Whoever touches her, you robbers and murderers, 
shall mingle his blood with this woman’s.” Then he 
flung himself beside Kasana’s bleeding form, and 
finding that she had lost consciousness, raised her in 
his arms and carried her to Miriam. 

The astonished plunderers speechlessly made way 
for a few minutes, but ere he reached the prophetess 
shouts of: “Vengeance! Vengeance !” were heard in 
all directions. “We found the woman : the booty 
belongs to us alone! — How dares the insolent 
Ephraimite call us robbers and murderers ? — Wherever 
Egyptian blood can be spilled, it must flow ! — At 
him ! — Snatch the girl from him !” 

The youth paid no heed to these outbursts of wrath 
until he had laid Kasana’s head in the lap of Miriam, 
who had seated herself on the nearest sand-hill, and as 
the angry throng, the women in front of the men, 
pressed upon him, he again waved his dagger, crying : 
“ Back — I command you. Let all of the blood of 
Ephraim and Judah rally around me and Miriam, the 
wife of their chief! That’s right, brothers, and woe 
betide any hand that touches her. Do ybu shriek for 
41 


272 


JOSHUA. 


vengeance? Has it not been yours through yonder 
monster who murdered the poor defenceless one ? Do 
you want your victim’s jewels? Well, well; they be- 
long to you, and I will give you mine to boot, if you 
will leave the wife of Hur to care for this dying girl !” 

With these words he bent over Kasana, took off the 
clasps and rings she still wore, and gave them to the 
greedy hands outstretched to seize them. Lastly he 
stripped the broad gold circlet from his arm, and 
holding it aloft exclaimed : 

“ Here is the promised payment. If you will depart 
quietly and leave this woman to Miriam, I will give 
you the gold, and you can divide it among you. If 
you thirst for more blood, come on ; but I will keep 
the armlet.” 

These words did not fail to produce their effect. 
The furious women looked at the heavy broad gold 
armlet, then at the handsome youth, and the men of 
Judah and Ephraim who had gathered around him, 
and finally glanced enquiringly into one another’s faces. 
At last the wife of a foreign trader cried : 

“ Let him give us the gold, and we’ll leave the 
handsome young chief his bleeding sweetheart.” 

To this decision the others agreed, and though the 
brickmaker’s infuriated wife, who thought as the avenger 
of her child she had done an act pleasing in the sight 
of God, and was upbraided for it as a murderess, re- 
viled the youth with frantic gestures, she was dragged 
away by the crowd to the shore where they hoped to 
find more booty. 

During this threatening transaction, Miriam had 
fearlessly examined Kasana’s wound and bound it up 
with skilful hands. The dagger which Prince Siptah 


JOSHUA. 


273 


had jestingly given the beautiful lady of his love, that 
she might not go to war defenceless, had inflicted a 
deep wound under the shoulder, and the blood had 
flowed so abundantly that the feeble spark of life 
threatened to die out at any moment. 

But she still lived, and in this condition was borne 
to the tent of Nun, which was the nearest within 
reach. 

The old chief had just been supplying weapons to 
the shepherds and youths whom Ephraim had sum- 
moned to go to the relief of the imprisoned Hosea, 
and had promised to join them, when the mournful 
procession approached. 

As Kasana loved the handsome old man, the latter 
had for many years kept a place in his heart for Captain 
Hornecht’s pretty daughter. 

She had never met him without gladdening him by 
a greeting which he always returned with kind words, 
such as : “ The Lord bless you, child !” or : “ It is a 
delightful hour when an old man meets so fair a creature.” 
Many years before — she had then worn the curls of 
childhood — he had even sent her a lamb, whose snowy 
fleece was specially silky, after having bartered the 
corn from her father’s lands for cattle of his most 
famous breed — and what his son had told him of 
Kasana had been well fitted to increase his regard for 
her. 

He beheld in the archer’s daughter the most 
charming young girl in Tanis and, had she been the 
child of Hebrew parents, he would have rejoiced to wed 
her to his son. 

To find his darling in such a state caused the old 
man grief so profound that bright tears ran down upon 


274 


JOSHUA. 


his snowy beard and his voice trembled as, while 
greeting her, he saw the blood-stained bandage on her 
shoulder. 

After she had been laid on his couch, and Nun had 
placed his own chest of medicines at the disposal of 
the skilful prophetess, Miriam asked the men to leave 
her alone with the suffering Egyptian, and when she 
again called them into the tent she had revived the 
strength of the severely - wounded girl with cordials, 
and bandaged the hurt more carefully than had been 
possible before. 

Kasana, cleansed from the blood-stains and with 
her hair neatly arranged, lay beneath the fresh linen 
coverings like a sleeping child just on the verge of 
maidenhood. 

She was still breathing, but the color had not re- 
turned to cheeks or lips, and she did not open her eyes 
until she had drunk the cordial Miriam mixed for her a 
second time. 

The old man and his grandson stood at the foot of 
her couch, and each would fain have asked the other 
why he could not restrain his tears whenever he looked 
at this stranger’s face. 

The certainty that Kasana was wicked and faithless, 
which had so unexpectedly forced itself upon Ephraim, 
had suddenly turned his heart from her and startled him 
back into the right path which he had abandoned. 
Yet what he had heard in her tent had remained a 
profound secret, and as he told his grandfather and 
Miriam that she had compassionately interceded for the 
prisoners, and both had desired to hear more of her, he 
had felt like a father who had witnessed the crime of a 


JOSHUA. 


275 


beloved son, and no word of the abominable things he 
had heard had escaped his lips. 

Now he rejoiced that he had kept silence; for what- 
ever he might have seen and heard, this fair creature 
certainly was capable of no base deed. 

To the old man she had never ceased to be the 
lovely child whom he had known, the apple of his eye 
and the joy of his heart. So he gazed with tender 
anxiety at the features convulsed by pain and, when she 
at last opened her eyes, smiled at her with paternal 
affection. Her glance showed that she instantly recog- 
nized both him and Ephraim, but weakness baffled her 
attempt to nod to them. Yet her expressive face 
revealed surprise and joy, and when Miriam had given 
her the cordial a third time and bathed her brow with 
a powerful essence, her large eyes wandered from face 
to face and, noticing the troubled looks of the men, she 
managed to whisper : 

“ The wound aches — and death — must I die ?” 

One looked enquiringly at another, and the men 
would gladly have concealed the terrible truth ; but she 
went on : 

“ Oh, let me know. Ah, I pray you, tell me the 
truth !” 

Miriam, who was kneeling beside her, found courage 
to answer : 

“ Yes, you poor young creature, the wound is deep, 
but whatever my skill can accomplish shall be done to 
preserve your life as long as possible.” 

The words sounded kind and full of compassion, 
yet the deep voice of the prophetess seemed to hurt 
Kasana ; for her lips quivered painfully while Miriam 


276 


JOSHUA. 


was speaking, and when she ceased, her eyes closed and 
one large tear after another ran down her cheeks. 

Deep, anxious silence reigned around her until she 
again raised her lashes and, fixing her eyes wearily on 
Miriam, asked softly, as if perplexed by some strange 
spectacle : 

“ You are a woman, and yet practise the art of the 
leech.” 

“ My God has commanded me to care for the suf- 
fering ones of our people,” replied the other. 

The dying girl’s eyes began to glitter with a restless 
light, and she gasped in louder tones, nay with a firm- 
ness that surprised the others : 

“ You are Miriam, the woman who sent for Hosea.” 

And when the other answered promptly and proudly : 
“ It is as you say !” Kasana continued : 

“ And you possess striking, imperious beauty, and 
much influence. He obeyed your summons, and you — 
you consented to wed another ?” 

Again the prophetess answered, this time with 
gloomy earnestness : “ It is as you say.” 

The dying girl closed her eyes once more, and a 
strange proud smile hovered around her lips. But it soon 
vanished and a great and painful restlessness seized upon 
her. The fingers of her little hands, her lips, nay, even 
her eyelids moved perpetually, and her smooth, narrow 
forehead contracted as if some great thought occupied 
her mind. 

At last the ideas that troubled her found utterance 
and, as if roused from her repose, she exclaimed in 
terrified accents : 

“ You are Ephraim, who seemed like his son, and 
the old man is Nun, his dear father. There you stand 


JOSHUA. 


277 


and will live on ... . But I — I . . . . Oh, it is so hard 
to leave the light .... Anubis will lead me before the 
judgment seat of Osiris. My heart will be weighed, 
and then . . . .” 

Here she shuddered and opened and closed her 
trembling hands ; but she soon regained her composure 
and began to speak again. Miriam, however, sternly 
forbade this, because it would hasten her death. 

Then the sufferer, summoning all her strength, ex- 
claimed hastily, as loudly as her voice would permit, 
after measuring the prophetess’ tall figure with a long 
glance: “You wish to prevent me from doing my 
duty — you ?” 

There had been a slight touch of mockery in the 
question; but Kasana doubtless felt that it was neces- 
sary to spare her strength ; for she continued far more 
quietly, as though talking to herself : 

“ I cannot die so, I cannot ! How it happened ; 
why I sacrficed all, all .... I must atone for it ; I will 
not complain, if he only learns how it came to pass. 
Oh, Nun, dear old Nun, who gave me the lamb when 
I was a little thing — I loved it so dearly — and you, 
Ephraim, my dear boy, I will tell you everything.” 

Here a painful fit of coughing interrupted her; but 
as soon as she recovered her breath, she turned to 
Miriam, and called in a tone which so plainly expressed 
bitter dislike, that it would have surprised any one who 
knew her kindly nature : 

“ But you, yonder, — you tall woman with the deep 
voice who are a physician, you lured him from Tanis, 
from his soldiers and from me. He, he obeyed your 
summons. And you .... you became another’s wife ; 
probably after his arrival .... yes ! For when Eph- 


278 


JOSHUA. 


raim summoned him, he called you a maiden .... I 
don’t know whether this caused him, Hosea, pain . . . . 
But there is one thing I do know, and that is that I 
want to confess something and must do so, ere it is too 
late .... And no one must hear it save those who 
love him, and I — do you hear — I love him, love 
him better than aught else on earth ! But you ? You 
have a husband, and a God whose commands you 
eagerly obey — you say so yourself. What can Hosea 
be to you ? So I beseech you to leave us. I have met 
few who repelled me, but you — your voice, your eyes 
— they pierce me to the heart — and if you were near 
I could not speak as I must .... and oh, talking hurts 
me so ! But before you go — you are a leech — let me 
know this one thing — I have many messages to leave 
for him ere I die .... Will it kill me to talk ?” 

Again the prophetess found no other words in 
answer except the brief : “ It is as you say,” and this 
time they sounded harsh and ominous. 

While wavering between the duty which, as a 
physician, she owed the sufferer and the impulse not to 
refuse the request of a dying woman, she read in old 
Nun’s eyes an entreaty to obey Kasana’s wish, and 
with drooping head left the tent. But the bitter words 
of the hapless girl pursued her and spoiled the day 
which had begun so gloriously and also many a later 
hour ; nay, to her life’s end she could not understand 
why, in the presence of this poor, dying woman, she 
had been overpowered by the feeling that she was her 
inferior and must take a secondary place. 

As soon as Kasana was left alone with Nun and 
Ephraim, and the latter had flung himself on his knees 
beside her couch, while the old man kissed her brow, 


JOSHUA. 


2 79 

and bowed his white head to listen to her low words, 
she began : 

“ I feel better now. That tall woman. . . . those 
gloomy brows that meet in the middle. . . . those night- 
black eyes. . . . they glow with so fierce a fire, yet are 
so cold. . . . That woman. . . . did Hosea love her, 
father ? Tell me ; lam not asking from idle curiosity !” 

“ He honored her,” replied the old man in a 
troubled tone, “ as did our whole nation ; for she has a 
lofty spirit, and our God suffers her to hear His voice ; 
but you, my darling, have been dear to him from child- 
hood, I know.” 

A slight tremor shook the dying girl. She closed 
her eyes for a short time and a sunny smile hovered 
around her lips. 

She lay in this attitude so long that Nun feared 
death had claimed her and, holding the medicine in 
his hand, listened to hear her breathing. 

Kasana did not seem to notice it ; but when she 
finally opened her eyes, she held out her hand for the 
cordial, drank it, and then began again : 

“ It seemed just as if I had seen him, Hosea. He 
wore the panoply of war just as he did the first time he 
took me into his arms. I was a little thing and felt 
afraid of him, he looked so grave, and my nurse had 
told me that he had slain a great many of our foes. 
Yet I was glad when he came and grieved when he 
went away. So the years passed, and love grew with 
my growth. My young heart was so full of him, so 
full. . . . Even when they forced me to wed another, 
and after I had become a widow.” 

The last words had been scarcely audible, and she 
rested some time ere she continued : 


28 o 


JOSHUA. 


Hosea knows all this, except how anxious I was 
when he was in the field, and how I longed for him 
ere he returned. At last, at last he came home, and 
how I rejoiced ! But he, Hosea. . . . ? That woman 
— Ephraim told me so — that tall, arrogant woman 
summoned him to Pithom. But he returned, and 
then. . . . Oh, Nun, your son that was the hard- 

est thing. . . . ! He refused my hand, which my 
father offered. . . . And how that hurt me. . . . ! I 
can say no more. . . . ! Give me the drink !■* 

Her cheeks had flushed crimson during these pain- 
ful confessions, and when the experienced old man 
perceived how rapidly the excitement under which she 
was laboring hastened the approach of death, he 
begged her to keep silence; but she insisted upon 
profiting by the time still allowed her, and though the 
sharp pain with which a short cough tortured her 
forced her to press her hand upon her breast, she 
continued : 

“ Then hate came ; but it did not last long — - and 
never did I love him more ardently than when I drove 
after the poor convict — you remember, my boy. Then 
began the horrible, wicked, evil time. ... of which I 
must tell him that he may not despise me, if he hears 
about it. I never had a mother, and there was no one 
to warn me. . . . Where shall I begin ? Prince Sip- 
tah — you know him, father — that wicked man will 
soon rule over my country. My father is in a con- 
spiracy with him. . . . merciful gods, I can say no 
more !” 

Terror and despair convulsed her features as she 
uttered these words ; but Ephraim interrupted her and, 
with tearful eyes and faltering voice, confessed that he 


JOSHUA. 


281 


knew all. Then he repeated what he had heard while 
listening outside of her tent, and her glance confirmed 
the tale. 

When he finally spoke of the wife of the viceroy and 
chief-priest Bai, whose body had been borne to the 
shore with her, Kasana interrupted him with the low 
exclamation : 

“ She planned it all. Her husband was to be the 
greatest man in the country and rule even Pharaoh ; 
for Siptah is not the son of a king.” 

“ And,” the old man interrupted, to quiet her and 
help her tell what she desired to say, “ as Ba'i raised, 
he can overthrow him. He will become, even more 
certainly than the dethroned monarch, the tool of the 
man who made him king. But I know Aarsu the 
Syrian, and if I see aright, the time will come when he 
will himself strive, in distracted Egypt, rent by internal 
disturbances, for the power which, through his mer- 
cenaries, he aided others to grasp. But child, what 
induced you to follow the army and this shameful 
profligate ?” 

The dying girl’s eyes sparkled, for the question 
brought her directly to what she desired to tell, and she 
answered as loudly and quickly as her weakness per- 
mitted : 

“ I did it for your son’s sake, for love of him, to 
liberate Hosea. The evening before I had steadily 
and firmly refused the wife of Bai. But when I saw 
your son at the well and he, Hosea. ... Oh, at last 
he was so affectionate and kissed me so kindly. . . . 
and then — then. . . . My poor heart ! I saw him, 
the best of men, perishing amid contumely and disease. 


282 


JOSHUA. 


And when he passed with chains on his feet, the 
thought darted through my mind. . . 

“ You determined, you dear, foolish, misguided 
child,” cried the old man, “ to win the heart of the 
future king in order, through him, to release my son, 
your friend ?” 

The dying girl again smiled assent and softly 
exclaimed : 

“ Yes, yes, I did it for that, for that alone. And 
the prince was so abhorrent to me. And the shame, 
the disgrace — oh, how terrible it was!” 

“ And you incurred it for my son’s sake,” the old 
man interrupted, raising her hand, wet with his tears, 
to his lips ; but she fixed her eyes on Ephraim, sobbing 
softly : 

“ I thought of him too. He is so young, and it is 
so horrible in the mines.” 

She shuddered again as she spoke ; but the youth 
covered her burning hand with kisses, while she gazed 
affectionately at him and the old man, adding in 
faltering accents : 

“ Oh, all is well now, and if the gods grant him 
freedom. . . .” 

Here Ephraim interrupted her to exclaim in fiery 
tones : 

“We are going to the mines this very day. I and 
my comrades, and my grandfather with us, will put his 
guards to flight.” 

“And he shall hear from my lips,” Nun added, 
“ how faithfully Kasana loved him, and that his life 
will be too short to thank her for such a sacrifice.” 

His voice failed him — but every trace of suffering 
had vanished from the countenance of the dying girl, 


JOSHUA. 


283 


and for a long time she gazed heavenward silently with 
a happy look. By degrees, however, her smooth brow 
contracted in an anxious frown, and she gasped in low 
tones : 

“ Well, all is well. . . . only one thing. . . . my 
body. . . . unembalmed. . . . without the sacred amu- 
lets. . . 

But the old man answered : 

“ As soon as you have closed your eyes, I will give 
it, carefully wrapped, to the Phoenician captain now 
tarrying here, that he may deliver it to your father.” 

Kasana tried to turn her head toward him to thank 
him with a loving glance, but she suddenly pressed 
both hands on her breast, crimson blood welled from 
her lips, her cheeks varied from livid white to fiery 
scarlet and, after a brief, painful convulsion, she sank 
back. Death laid his hand on the loving heart, and 
her features gained the expression of a child whose 
mother has forgiven its fault and clasped it to her heart 
ere it fell asleep. 

The old man, weeping, closed the dead girl’s eyes. 
Ephraim, deeply moved, kissed the closed lids, and 
after a short silence Nun said : 

“ I do not like to enquire about our fate beyond the 
grave, which Moses himself does not know ; but who- 
ever has lived so that his or her memory is tenderly 
cherished in the souls of loved ones, has, I think, done 
the utmost possible to secure a future existence. We 
will remember this dead girl in our most sacred hours. 
Let us do for her corpse what we promised, and then 
set forth to show the man for whom Kasana sacrificed 
what she most valued that we do not love him less 
than this Egyptian woman. 


284 


JOSHUA. 


CHAPTER XXIV. 

The prisoners of state who were being transported 
to the mines made slow progress. Even the experi- 
enced captain of the guards had never had a more 
toilsome trip or one more full of annoyances, obstacles, 
and mishaps. 

One of his moles, Ephraim, had escaped ; he had 
lost his faithful hounds, and after his troop had been 
terrified and drenched by a storm such as scarcely oc- 
curred in these desert regions once in five years, a 
second had burst the next evening — the one which 
brought destruction on Pharaoh’s army — and this had 
been still more violent and lasting. 

The storm had delayed the march and, after the 
last cloud-burst, several convicts and guards had been 
attacked by fever owing to their wet night-quarters in 
the open air. The Egyptian asses, too, who were un- 
used to rain, had suffered and some of the best had 
been left on the road. 

Finally they had been obliged to bury two dead 
prisoners, and place three who were dangerously ill on 
the remaining asses ; and the other prisoners were laden 
with the stores hitherto carried by the beasts of burden. 
This was the first time such a thing had happened 
during the leader’s service of five and twenty years, 
and he expected severe reproofs. 

All these things exerted a baneful influence on the 
disposition of the man, who was usually reputed one 
of the kindest-hearted of his companions in office ; and 


JOSHUA. 


285 


Joshua, the accomplice of the bold lad whose flight 
was associated with the other vexations, suffered most 
sorely from his ill-humor. 

Perhaps the irritated man would have dealt more 
gently with him, had he complained like the man be- 
hind him, or burst into fierce oaths like his yoke-mate, 
who made threatening allusions to the future when his 
sister-in-law would be in high favor with Pharaoh and 
know how to repay those who ill-treated her dear 
relative. 

But Hosea had resolved to bear whatever the rude 
fellow and his mates chose to inflict with the same 
equanimity that he endured the scorching sun which, 
ever since he had served in the army, had tortured him 
during many a march through the desert, and his 
steadfast, manly character helped him keep this deter- 
mination. 

If the captain of the gang loaded him with extra 
heavy burdens, he summoned all the strength of his 
muscles and tottered forward without a word of com- 
plaint until his knees trembled under him; then the 
captain would rush to him, throw several packages 
from his shoulders, and exclaim that he understood his 
spite ; he was only trying to be left on the road, to get 
him into fresh difficulties ; but he would not allow him- 
self to be robbed of the lives of the men who were 
needed in the mines. 

Once the captain inflicted a wound that bled se- 
verely ; but he instantly made every effort to cure it, 
gave him wine to restore his strength, and delayed the 
march half a day to permit him to rest. 

He had not forgotten Prince Siptah’s promise of a 
rich reward to any one who brought him tidings of 


286 


JOSHUA. 


Hosea’s death, but this was the very reason that in- 
duced the honest-hearted man to watch carefully over 
his prisoner’s life ; for the consciousness of having vio- 
lated his duty for the sake of reaping any advantage 
would have robbed him of all pleasure in food and 
drink, as well as of the sound sleep which were his 
greatest blessings. 

So though the Hebrew prisoner was tortured, it 
was never beyond the limits of the endurable, and he 
had the pleasure of rendering, by his own great strength, 
many a service to his weaker companions. 

He had commended his fate to the God who had 
summoned him to His service; but he was well aware 
that he must not rest content with mere pious confi- 
dence, and therefore thought by day and night of escape. 
But the chain that bound him to his companions in 
suffering was too firmly forged, and was so carefully 
examined and hammered every morning, and evening, 
that the attempt to escape would only have plunged 
him into greater misery. 

The prisoners had at first marched through a hilly 
region, then climbed upward, with a long mountain 
chain in view, and finally reached a desert country 
from which truncated sandstone cones rose singly from 
the rocky ground. 

On the fifth evening they encamped near a large 
mountain which Nature seemed to have piled up from 
flat layers of stone and, as the sun of the sixth day 
rose, they turned into a side valley leading to the mines 
in the province of Bech. 

During the first few days they had been overtaken by 
a messenger from the king’s silver-house; but on the 
other hand they had met several little bands bearing to 


JOSHUA. 287 

Egypt malachite, turquoise, and copper, as well as the 
green glass made at the mines. 

Among those whom they met at the entrance of 
the cross-valley into which they turned on the last 
morning was a married couple on their way homeward, 
after having received a pardon from the king. The 
captain of the guards pointed them out to encourage 
his exhausted moles, but the spectacle produced the 
opposite effect; for the tangled locks of the man, who 
had scarcely passed his thirtieth year, were grey, his tall 
figure was bowed and emaciated, and his naked back 
was covered with scars and bleeding wales ; the wife, 
who had shared his misery, was blind. She sat cowering 
on an ass, in the dull torpor of insanity, and though 
the passing of the convicts made a startling interruption 
to the silence of the wilderness, and her hearing had 
remained keen, she paid no heed, but continued to stare 
indifferently into vacancy. 

The sight of the hapless pair placed Hosea’s own 
terrible future before him as if in a mirror, and for the 
first time he groaned aloud and covered his face with 
his hands. 

The captain of the guards perceived this and, 
touched by the horror of the man whose resolution had 
hitherto seemed peerless, called to him : 

“ They don’t all come home like that, no indeed !” 

“ Because they are even worse off," he thought- 
“ But the poor wights needn’t know it beforehand. 
The next time I come this way I’ll ask for Hosea; 1 
shall want to know what has become of this bull of a 
man. The strongest and the most resolute succumb 
the most quickly.” 

Then, like a driver urging an unharnessed team for- 
42 


288 


JOSHUA. 


ward, he swung the lash over the prisoners, but without 
touching them, and pointing to a column of smoke 
which rose behind a cliff at the right of the road, he 
exclaimed : 

“ There are the smelting furnaces ! We shall reach 
our destination at noon. There will be no lack of 
fire to cook lentils, and doubtless you may have a bit of 
mutton, too , for we celebrate to-day the birth of the 
‘ good god, the son of the sun may life, health, and 
prosperity be his 1” 

For the next half-hour their road led between lofty 
cliffs through the dry bed of a river, down which, after 
the last rains, a deep mountain torrent had poured to 
the valley ; but now only a few pools still remained. 

After the melancholy procession had passed around 
a steep mountain whose summit was crowned with a 
small Egyptian temple of Hathor and a number of 
monuments, it approached a bend in the valley which 
led to the ravine where the mines were located. 

Flags, hoisted in honor of Pharaoh’s birth-day, 
were waving from tall masts before the gates of the 
little temple on the mountain ; and when loud shouts, 
uproar, and clashing greeted the travellers in the valley 
of the mines, which was wont to be so silent, the captain 
of the guards thought that the prisoners’ greatest fes- 
tival was being celebrated in an unusually noisy way 
and communicated this conjecture to the other guards 
who had paused to listen. 

Then the party pressed forward without delay, but 
no one raised his head ; the noon-day sun blazed so 
fiercely, and the dazzling walls of the ravine sent forth 
a reflected glow as fierce as if they were striving to 
surpass the heat of the neighboring smelting furnaces. 


JOSHUA. 


289 


Spite of the nearness of the goal the prisoners tot- 
tered forward as if asleep, only one held his breath in 
the intensity of suspense. 

As the battle-charger in the plough arches his neck, 
and expands his nostrils, while his eyes flash fire, so 
Joshua’s bowed figure, spite of the sack that burdened 
his shoulders, straightened itself, and his sparkling eyes 
were turned toward the spot whence came the sounds 
the captain of the guards had mistaken for the loud 
tumult of festal mirth. 

He, Joshua, knew better. Never could he mistake 
the roar echoing there ; it was the war-cry of Egyptian 
soldiers, the blast of the trumpet summoning the 
warriors, the clank of weapons, and the battle-shouts of 
hostile hordes. 

Ready for prompt action, he bent toward his yoke- 
mate, and whispered imperiously : 

“ The hour of deliverance is at hand. Take heed, 
and obey me blindly.” 

Strong excitement overpowered his companion also, 
and Hosea had scarcely glanced into the side-valley 
ere he bade him hold himself in readiness. 

The first look into the ravine had showed him, on 
the summit of a cliff, a venerable face framed in snowy 
locks — his father’s. He would have recognized him 
among thousands and at a far greater distance ! But 
from the beloved grey head he turned a swift glance at 
the guide, who had stopped in speechless horror, and 
supposing that a mutiny had broken out among the 
prisoners, with swift presence of mind shouted hoarsely 
to the other guards : 

“ Keep behind the convicts and cut down every 
one who attempts to escape !” 


290 


JOSHUA. 


But scarcely had his subordinates hurried to the 
end of the train, ere Joshua whispered to his com- 
panion : 

“At him!” 

As he spoke the Hebrew, who, with his yoke-mate, 
headed the procession, attacked the astonished leader, 
and ere he was aware of it, Joshua seized his right arm, 
the other his left. 

The strong man, whose powers were doubled by 
his rage, struggled furiously to escape, but Joshua and 
his companion held him in an iron grasp. 

A single rapid glance had showed the chief the 
path he must take to join his people True, it led past 
a small band of Egyptian bow-men, who were dis- 
charging their arrows at the Hebrews on the opposite 
cliff, but the enemy would not venture to fire at him 
and his companion ; for the powerful figure of the cap- 
tain of the guards, clearly recognizable by his dress and 
weapons, shielded them both. 

“ Lift the chain with your right hand,” whispered 
Joshua, “ I will hold our living buckler. We must 
ascend the cliff crab-fashion.” 

His companion obeyed, and as they advanced 
within bow-shot of the enemy — moving sometimes back- 
ward, sometimes sideways — they held the Egyptian 
before them and with the ringing shout “ The son of 
Nun is returning to his father and to his people!” 
Joshua step by step drew nearer to the Hebrew com- 
batants. 

Not one of the Egyptians who knew the captain of 
the prisoners’ guard had ventured to send an arrow at 
the escaping prisoners. While the fettered pair were as- 
cending the cliff backward, Joshua heard his name 


JOSHUA. 


291 


shouted in joyous accents, and directly after Ephraim, 
with a band of youthful warriors, came rushing down 
the height toward him. 

To his astonishment Joshua saw the huge shield, 
sword, or battle-axe of an Egyptian heavily-armed 
soldier in the hands of each of these sons of his people, 
but the shepherd’s sling and the bag of round stones 
also hung from many girdles. 

Ephraim led his companions and, before greeting 
his uncle, formed them into two ranks like a double 
wall between Joshua and the hostile bow-men. 

Then he gave himself up to the delight of meeting, 
and a second glad greeting soon followed; for old 
Nun, protected by the tall Egyptian shields which the 
sea had washed ashore, had been guided to the project- 
ing rock in whose shelter strong hands were filing the 
fetters from Joshua and his companion, while Ephraim, 
with several others, bound the captain. 

The unfortunate man had given up all attempt at 
resistance and submitted to everything as if utterly 
crushed. He only asked permission to wipe his eyes 
ere his arms were bound behind his back ; for tear after 
tear was falling on the grey beard of the warder who, 
outwitted and overpowered, no longer felt capable of 
discharging the duties of his office. 

Nun clasped to his heart with passionate fervor the 
rescued son whom he had already mourned as lost. 
Then, releasing him, he stepped back and never wearied 
of feasting his eyes on him and hearing him repeat 
that, faithful to his God, he had consecrated himself to 
the service of his people. 

But it was for a brief period only that they gave 
themselves up to the bliss of this happy meeting ; the 


292 


JOSHUA. 


battle asserted its rights, and its direction fell, as a 
matter of course, to Joshua. 

He had learned with grateful joy, yet not wholly 
untinged with melancholy, of the fate which had over- 
taken the brave army among whose leaders he had long 
proudly numbered himself, and also heard that another 
body of armed shepherds, under the command of Hur, 
Miriam’s husband, had attacked the turquoise mines of 
Dophkah, which situated a little farther toward the 
south, could be reached in a few hours. If they con- 
quered, they were to join the young followers of Eph- 
raim before sunset. 

The latter was burning with eagerness to rush upon 
the Egyptians, but the more prudent Joshua, who had 
scanned the foe, though he did not doubt that they 
must succumb to the fiery shepherds, who were far 
superior to them in numbers, was anxious to shed as 
little blood as possible in this conflict, which was waged 
on his account, so he bade Ephraim cut a palm from 
the nearest tree, ordered a shield to be handed to him 
and then, waving the branch as an omen of peace, yet 
cautiously protecting himself, advanced alone to meet 
the foe. 

The main body were drawn up in front of the 
mines and, familiar with the signal which requested 
negotiations, asked their commander for an interview. 

The latter was ready to grant it, but first desired to 
know the contents of a letter which had just been 
handed to him and must contain evil tidings. This 
was evident from the messenger’s looks and the few 
words which, though broken, were pregnant with mean- 
ing, that he had whispered to his countryman. 

While some of Pharaoh’s warriors offered refresh- 


JOSHUA. 


293 


ments to the exhausted, dust-covered runner, and lis- 
tened with every token of horror to the tidings he 
hoarsely gasped, the commander of the troops read the 
letter. 

His features darkened anfd, when he had finished, he 
clenched the papyrus fiercely; for it had announced 
tidings no less momentous than the destruction of the 
army, the death of Pharaoh Menephtah, and the cor- 
onation of his oldest surviving son as Seti II, after the 
attempt of Prince Siptah to seize the throne had been 
frustrated. The latter had fled to the marshy region of 
the Delta, and Aarsu, the Syrian, after abandoning him 
and supporting the new king, had been raised to the 
chief command of all the mercenaries. Bai, the high- 
priest and chief-judge, had been deprived of his rank 
and banished by Seti II. Siptah’s confederates had 
been taken to the Ethiopian gold mines instead of to 
the copper mines. It was also stated that many 
women belonging to the House of the Separated had 
been strangled ; and Siptah’s mother had undoubtedly 
met the same fate. Every soldier who could be spared 
from the mines was to set off at once for Tanis, where 
veterans were needed for the new legions. 

This news exerted a powerful influence ; for after 
Joshua had told the commander that he was aware of 
the destruction of the Egyptian army and expected 
reinforcements which had been sent to capture Dophkah 
to arrive within a few hours, the Egyptian changed his 
imperious tone and endeavored merely to obtain favor- 
able conditions for retreat. He was but too well 
aware of the weakness of the garrison of the turquoise 
mines and knew that he could expect no aid from home. 
Besides, the mediator inspired him with confidence *. 


294 


JOSHUA. 


therefore, after many evasions and threats, he expressed 
himself satisfied with the assurance that the garrison, 
accompanied by the beasts of burden and necessary 
provisions, should be allowed to depart unharmed. 
This, however, was not to be done until after they had 
laid down their arms and showed the Hebrews all the 
galleries where the prisoners were at work. 

The young Hebrews, who twice outnumbered the 
Egyptians, at once set about disarming them; and 
many an old warrior’s eyes grew dim, many a man 
broke his lance or snapped his’ arrows amid execrations 
and curses, while some grey -beards who had formerly 
served under Joshua and recognized him, raised their 
clenched fists and upbraided him as a traitor. 

The dregs of the army were sent for this duty in the 
wilderness and most of the men bore in their faces the 
impress of corruption and brutality. Those in authority 
on the Nile knew how to choose soldiers whose duty 
it was to exercise pitiless severity against the defence- 
less. 

At last the mines were opened and Joshua himself 
seized a lamp and pressed forward into the hot galleries 
where the naked prisoners of state, loaded with fetters, 
were hewing the copper ore from the walls. 

Already he could hear in the distance the picks, 
whose heads were shaped like a swallow’s tail, bite the 
hard rock. Then he distinguished the piteous wails of 
tortured men and women ; for cruel overseers had fol- 
lowed them into the mine and were urging the slow to 
greater haste. 

To-day, Pharaoh’s birthday, they had been driven 
to the temple of Hathor on the summit of the neigh- 
boring height, to pray for the king who had plunged 


JOSHUA. 


2 95 


them into the deepest misery, and they would have 
been released from labor until the next morning, had 
not the unexpected attack induced the commander to 
force them back into the mines. Therefore to-day the 
women, who were usually obliged merely to crush and 
sift the ores needed to make glass and dyes, were com- 
pelled to labor in the galleries. 

When the convicts heard Joshua’s shouts and foot- 
steps, which echoed from the bare cliffs, they were 
afraid that some fresh misfortune was impending, and 
wailing and lamentations arose in all directions. But 
the deliverer soon reached the first convicts, and the 
glad tidings that he had come to save them from their 
misery speedily extended to the inmost depths of the 
mines. 

Wild exultation filled the galleries which were wont 
to witness only sorrowful moans and burning tears ; 
yet loud cries for help, piteous wailings, groans, and the 
death-rattle reached Joshua’s ear; for a hot-blooded 
man had rushed upon the overseer most hated and 
felled him with his pick-axe. His example quickly in- 
flamed the others’ thirst for vengeance and, ere it could 
be prevented, the same fate overtook the other officials. 
But they had defended themselves and the corpse of 
many a prisoner strewed the ground beside their tor- 
mentors. 

Obeying Joshua’s call, the liberated multitude at 
last emerged into the light of day. Savage and fierce 
were the outcries which blended in sinister discord with 
the rattling of the chains they dragged after them. 
Even the most fearless among the Hebrews shrank in 
horror as they beheld the throng of hapless sufferers in 
the full radiance of the sunlight ; for the dazzled, red- 


296 


JOSHUA. 


dened eyes of the unfortunate sufferers, — many of 
whom had formerly enjoyed in their own homes or at 
the king’s court every earthly blessing ; who had been 
tender mothers and fathers, rejoiced in doing good, and 
shared all the blessings of the civilization of a richly 
gifted people, — these dazzled eyes which at first glittered 
through tears caused by the swift transition from the 
darkness of the mines to the glare of the noon-day 
sun, soon sparkled as fiercely and greedily as those of 
starving owls. 

At first, overwhelmed by the singular change in 
their destiny, they struggled for composure and did not 
resist the Hebrews, who, at Joshua’s signal, began to 
file the fetters from their ankles ; but when they per- 
ceived the disarmed soldiers and overseers who, guarded 
by Ephraim and his companions, were ranged at the 
base of a cliff, a strange excitement overpowered 
them. Amid shrieks and yells which no name can 
designate, no words describe, they broke from those 
who were trying to remove their fetters and, though no 
glance or word had been exchanged between them, 
obeyed the same terrible impulse, and unheeding the 
chains that burdened them, rushed upon the defenceless 
Egyptians. Before the Hebrews could prevent it, each 
threw himself upon the one who had inflicted the worst 
suffering upon him; and here might be seen an emaciated 
man clutching the throat of his stronger foe, yonder a 
band of nude women horribly disfigured by want and 
neglect, rush upon the man who had most rudely in- 
sulted, beaten, and abused them, and with teeth and 
nails wreak upon him their long repressed fury. 

It seemed as though the flood-tide of hate had burst 
its dam and, unfettered, was demanding its victims. 


JOSHUA. 


297 


There was a horrible scene of attack and defence, 
a ferocious, bloody conflict on foot and amid the red 
sand of the desert, shrieks, yells, and howls pierced the 
ear; nay, it was difficult to distinguish individuals in 
this motley confusion of men and women, animated on 
the one side by the wildest passion, a yearning for ven- 
geance amounting, to blood-thirstiness, and on the other 
by the dread of death and the necessity for self- 
defence. 

Only a few of the prisoners had succeeded in con- 
trolling themselves; but they, too, shouted irritating 
words to their fellows, reviled the Egyptians in violent 
excitement, and shook their clenched fists at the dis- 
armed foe. 

The fury with which the liberated serfs rushed upon 
their tormentors was as unprecedented as the cruelties 
they had suffered. 

But Joshua had deprived the Egyptians of their 
weapons, and they were therefore under his pro- 
tection. 

So he commanded his men to separate the com- 
batants, if possible without bloodshed ; but the task was 
no easy one, and many new and horrible deeds were 
committed. At last, however, it was accomplished, 
and they now perceived how terribly rage had increased 
the strength of the exhausted and feeble sufferers ; for 
though no weapons had been used in the conflict a 
number of corpses strewed the spot, and most of the 
guards were bleeding from terrible wounds. 

After quiet had been restored, Joshua asked the 
wounded commander for the list of prisoners, but he 
pointed to the clerk of the mines, whom none of the 
convicts had assailed. He had been their physician 


298 


JOSHUA. 


and treated them kindly — an elderly man, he had 
himself undergone sore trials and, knowing the pain of 
suffering, was ready to alleviate the pangs of others. 

He willingly read aloud the names of the prisoners, 
among which were several Hebrew ones, and after each 
individual had responded, many declared themselves 
ready to join the wandering tribes. 

When the disarmed soldiers and guards at last set 
out on their way home, the captain of the band that 
had escorted Joshua and his companions left the other 
Egyptians, and with drooping head and embarrassed 
mien approached old Nun and his son, and begged 
permission to go with them ; for he could expect no 
favor at home and there was no God in Egypt so 
mighty as theirs. It had not escaped his notice that 
Hosea, who had once been a chief in the Egyptian 
service, had raised his hands in the sorest straits to 
this God, and never had he witnessed the same degree 
of resolution that he possessed. Now he also knew that 
this same mighty God had buried Pharaoh’s powerful 
army in the sea to save His people. Such a God was 
acceptable to his heart, and he desired nothing better 
than to remain henceforward with those who served 
Him. 

Joshua willingly allowed him to join the Hebrews. 
Then it appeared that there were fifteen of the latter 
among the liberated prisoners and, to Ephraim’s special 
delight, Reuben, the husband of poor melancholy 
Milcah, who clung so closely to Miriam. His reserved, 
laconic disposition had stood him in good stead, and 
the arduous forced labor seemed to have inflicted little 
injury on his robust frame. 

The exultation of victory, the joy of success, had 


JOSHUA. 


2 99 

taken full possession of Ephraim and his youthful band , 
but when the sun set and there was still no sign of Hur 
and his band, Nun and his followers were seized with 
anxiety. 

Ephraim had already proposed to go with some of 
his companions in quest of tidings, when a messenger 
announced that Hur’s men had lost courage at the 
sight of the well-fortified Egyptian citadel. Their 
leader, it is true, had urged them to the assault, but his 
band had shrunk from the peril and, unless Nun and 
his men brought aid, they would return with their 
mission unfulfilled. 

It was therefore resolved to go to the assistance of 
the timorous. With joyous confidence they marched 
forward and, during the journey through the cool night, 
Ephraim and Nun described to Joshua how they had 
found Kasana and how she had died. What she had 
desired to communicate to the man she loved was now 
made known to him, and the warrior listened with deep 
emotion and remained silent and thoughtful until they 
reached Dophkah, the valley of the turquoise mines, 
from whose center rose the fortress which contained 
the prisoners. 

Hur and his men had remained concealed in a side- 
valley, and after Joshua had divided the Hebrew force 
into several bodies and assigned to each a certain task, 
he gave at dawn the signal for the assault. 

After a brief struggle the little garrison was over- 
powered and the fortress taken. The disarmed 
Egyptians, like their companions at the copper mines, 
were sent home. The prisoners were released and the 
lepers, whose quarters were in a side- valley beyond the 
mines — among them were those who at Joshua’s 


3 °° 


JOSHUA. 


bidding had been brought here — were allowed to 
follow the conquerors at a certain distance. 

What Hur, Miriam’s husband, could not^ accomplish, 
Joshua had done, and ere the young soldiers departed 
with Ephraim, old Nun assembled them to offer thanks 
to the Lord. The men under Hur’s command also 
joined in the prayer and wherever Joshua appeared 
Ephraim’s companions greeted him with cheers. 

“ Hail to our chief!” often rang on the air, as they 
marched forward : “ Hail to him whom the Most High 
Himself has chosen for His sword ! We will gladly 
follow him; for through him God leads us to vic- 
tory.” 

Hur’s men also joined in these shouts, and he did 
not forbid them ; nay, after the storming of the fortress, 
he had thanked Joshua and expressed his pleasure in 
his liberation. 

At the departure, the younger man had stepped 
back to let the older one precede him ; but Hur had 
entreated grey-haired Nun, who was greatly his senior, 
to take the head of the procession, though after the 
deliverance of the people on the shore of the Red Sea 
he had himself been appointed by Moses and the 
elders to the chief command of the Hebrew soldiers. 

The road led first through a level moutain valley, 
then it crossed the pass known as the “ Sword-point ”, 
which was the only means of communication between 
the mines and the Red Sea. 

The rocky landscape was wild and desolate, and the 
path to be climbed steep. Joshua’s old father, who had 
grown up on the flat plains of Goshen and was unac- 
customed to climbing mountains, was borne amid the 
joyous acclamations of the others, in the arms of his 


JOSHUA. 


301 


son and grandson, to the summit of the pass ; but Miri- 
am’s husband who, at the head of his men, followed 
the division of Ephraim’s companions, heard the shouts 
of the youths yet moved with drooping head and eyes 
bent on the ground. 

At the summit they were to rest and wait for the 
people who were to be led through the wilderness of 
Sin to Dophkah. 

The victors gazed from the top of the pass in search 
of the travellers ; but as yet no sign of them appeared. 
But when they looked back along the mountain path 
whence they had come a different spectacle presented 
itself, a scene so grand, so marvellous, that it attracted 
every eye as though by a magic spell ; for at their feet 
lay a circular valley, surrounded by lofty cliffs, mountain 
ridges, peaks, and summits, which here white as chalk, 
yonder raven-black, here grey and brown, yonder red 
and green, appeared to grow upward from the sand 
toward the azure sky of the wilderness, steeped in 
dazzling light, and unshadowed by the tiniest cloudlet. 

All that the eye beheld was naked and bare, silent 
and lifeless. On the slopes of the many-colored rocks, 
which surrounded the sandy valley, grew no blade of 
grass nor smallest plant. Neither bird, worm, nor 
beetle stirred in these silent tracts, hostile to all life. 
Here the eye discerned no cultivation, — nothing that 
recalled human existence. God seemed to have cre- 
ated for Himself alone these vast tracts which were of 
service to no living creature. Whoever penetrated into 
this wilderness entered a spot which the Most High 
had perchance chosen for a place of rest and retreat, like 
the silent, inaccessible Holy of Holies of the temple. 

The young men had gazed mutely at the wonderful 


3° 2 


JOSHUA. 


scene at their feet. Now they prepared to encamp and 
showed themselves diligent in serving old Nun, whom 
they sincerely loved. Resting among them under a 
hastily erected canopy he related, with sparkling eyes, 
the deeds his son had performed. 

Meanwhile Joshua and Hur.were still standing at 
the top of the pass, the former gazing silently down 
into the dreary, rocky valley, which overarched by the 
blue dome of the sky, surrounded by the mountain 
pillars and columns from God’s own workshop, opened 
before him as the mightiest of temples. 

The old man had long gazed gloomily at the ground, 
but he suddenly interrupted the silence and said : 

“ In Succoth I erected a heap of stones and called 
upon the Lord to be a witness between us. But in 
this spot, amid this silence, it seems to me that without 
memorial or sign we are sure of His presence.” Here 
he drew his figure to a greater height and continued : 
“ And I now raise mine eyes to Thee, Adonai, and 
address my humble words to Thee, Jehovah, Thou God 
of Abraham and of our fathers, that Thou mayst a 
second time be a witness between me and this man 
whom Thou Thyself didst summon to Thy service, that 
he might be Thy sword.” 

He had uttered these words with eyes and hands 
uplifted, then turning to the other, he said with solemn 
earnestness : 

“ So I ask thee Hosea, son of Nun, dost thou re- 
member the vow which thou and I made before the 
stones in Succoth ?” 

“ I do,” was the reply. “ And in sore disaster and 
great peril I perceived what the Most High desired of 
me, and am resolved to devote to Him all the strength 


JOSHUA. 


3°3 

of body and soul with which He has endowed me, to 
Him alone, and to His people, who are also mine. 
Henceforward I will be called Joshua .... nor will I 
seek service with the Egyptians or any foreign king; 
for the Lord our God through the lips of thy wife 
bestowed this name upon me.” 

Then Hur, with solemn earnestness, broke in : 

“ That is what I expected to hear and as, in this 
place also, the Most High is a witness between me and 
thee and hears this conversation, let the vow I made in 
His presence be here fulfilled. The heads of the tribes 
and Moses, the servant of the Lord, appointed me to 
the command of the fighting-men of our people. But 
now thou dost call thyself Joshua, and hast vowed to 
serve no other than the Lord our God. I am well 
aware thou canst accomplish far greater things as com- 
mander of an army than I, who have grown grey in 
driving herds, or than any other Hebrew, by whatever 
name he is known, so I will fulfil the vow sworn at 
Succoth. I will ask Moses, the servant of the Lord, 
and the elders to confide to thee the office of com- 
mander. In their hands will I place the decision and, 
because I feel that the Most High beholds my heart, 
let me confess that I have thought of thee with secret 
rancor. Yet, for the welfare of the people, I will forget 
what lies between us and offer thee my hand.” 

With these words he held out his hand to Joshua 
and the latter, grasping it, replied with generous 
candor : 

“Thy words are manly and mine shall be also. 
For the sake of the people and the cause we both 
serve, I will accept thy offer. Yet since thou hast 
summoned the Most High as a witness and He hears 
43 


/ 


3°4 


JOSHUA. 


me, I, too, will not withhold one iota of the truth. 
The Lord Himself has summoned me to the office of 
commander of the fighting-men which thou dost desire 
to commit to me. It was done through Miriam, thy 
wife, and is my due. Yet I recognize thy willingness 
to yield thy dignity to me as a praiseworthy deed, since 
I know how hard it is for a man to resign power, 
especially in favor of a younger one whom he does not 
love. Thou hast done this, and I am grateful. I, too, 
have thought of thee with secret rancor ; for through 
thee I lost another possession harder for a man to re- 
nounce than office : the love of woman.” 

The hot blood mounted into Hur’s cheeks, as he 
exclaimed : 

“ Miriam ! I did not force her into marriage ; nay 
I did not even purchase her, according to the custom 
of our fathers, with the bridal dowry — she became my 
wife of her own free will.” 

“ I know it,” replied Joshua quietly, “ yet there was 
one man who had yearned to make her his longer and 
more ardently than thou, and the fire of jealousy burned 
fiercely in his heart. But have no anxiety ; for wert 
thou now to give her a letter of divorce and lead her 
to me that I might open my arms and tent to receive 
her, I would exclaim : 

“ Why hast thou done this thing to thyself and to 
me ? For a short time ago I learned what woman’s 
love is, and that I was mistaken when I believed 
Miriam shared the ardor of my heart. Besides, during 
the march with fetters on my feet, in the heaviest mis- 
fortune, I vowed to devote all the strength and energy 
of soul and body to the welfare of our people. Nor 
shall the love of woman turn me from the great duty I 


JOSHUA. 


3°5 

have taken upon myself. As for thy wife, I shall treat 
her as a stranger unless, as a prophetess, she summons 
me to announce a new message from the Lord ” 

With these words he held out his hand to his com- 
panion and, as Hur grasped it, loud voices were heard 
from the fighting-men, for messengers were climbing 
the mountain, who, shouting and beckoning, pointed 
to the vast cloud of dust that preceded the march of 
the tribes. 


CHAPTER XXV. 

The Hebrews came nearer and nearer, and many 
of the young combatants hastened to meet them. 

These were not the joyous bands, who had joined 
triumphantly in Miriam’s song of praise, no, they tot- 
tered toward the mountain slowly, with drooping heads. 
They were obliged to scale the pass from the steeper 
side, and how the bearers sighed; how piteously the 
women and children wailed, how fiercely the drivers 
swore as they urged the beasts of burden up the 
narrow, rugged path ; how hoarsely sounded the voices 
of the half fainting men as they braced their shoulders 
against the carts to aid the beasts of burden. 

These thousands who, but a few short days before, 
had so gratefully felt the saving mercy of the Lord, 
seemed to Joshua, who stood watching their approach, 
like a defeated army. 

But the path they had followed from their last en- 
campment, the harbor by the Red Sea, was rugged, 
arid, and to them, who had grown up among the 


3 ° 6 


JOSHUA. 


fruitful plains of Lower Egypt, toilsome and full of 
terror. 

It had led through the midst of the bare rocky 
landscape, and their eyes, accustomed to distant ho- 
rizons and luxuriant green foliage, met narrow boun- 
daries and a barren wilderness. 

Since passing through the Gate of Baba, they had 
beheld on their way through the valley of the same 
name and their subsequent pilgrimage through the 
wilderness of Sin, nothing save valleys with steep 
precipices on either side. A lofty mountain of the hue 
of death had towered, black and terrible, above the 
reddish-brown slopes, which seemed to the wanderers 
like the work of human hands, for the strata of stones 
rose at regular intervals. One might have supposed 
that the giant builders whose hands had toiled here in 
the service of the Sculptor of the world had been sum- 
moned away ere they had completed the task, which in 
this wilderness had no searching eye to fear and seemed 
destined for the service of no living creature. Grey 
and brown granite cliffs and ridges rose on both sides 
of the path, and in the sand which covered it lay heaps 
of small bits of red porphyry and coal-black stones 
that seemed as if they had been broken by the blows 
of a hammer and resembled the dross from which metal 
had been melted. Greenish masses of rock, most pe- 
culiar in form, surrounded the narrow, cliff-circled 
mountain valleys, which opened into one another. 
The ascending path pierced them ; and often the He- 
brews, as they entered, feared that the lofty cliffs in the 
distance would compel them to return. Then murmurs 
and lamentations arose, but the mode of egress soon 
appeared and led to another rock-valley. 


JOSHUA. 


3 ° 7 


On departing from the harbor at the Red Sea they 
had often found thorny gum acacias and an aromatic 
desert plant, which the animals relished ; but the farther 
they entered the rocky wilderness, the more scorching 
and arid the sand became, and at last the eye sought 
in vain for herbs and trees. 

At Elim fresh springs and shade-giving palms were 
found, and at the Red Sea there were well-filled cisterns ; 
but here at the camp in the wilderness of Sin nothing 
had been discovered to quench the thirst, and at noon 
it seemed as though an army of spiteful demons had 
banished every inch of shade cast by the cliffs; for 
every part of the valleys and ravines blazed and 
glowed, and nowhere was there the slightest protection 
from the scorching sun. 

The last water brought with them had been dis- 
tributed among the human beings and animals, and 
when the procession started in the morning not a drop 
could be found to quench their increasing thirst. 

Then the old doubting rancor and rebelliousness 
took possession of the multitude. Curses directed 
against Moses and the elders, who had led them from 
the comfort of well-watered Egypt to this misery, neve* 
ceased ; but when they climbed the pass of the “ Sword- 
point ” their parched throats had become too dry foi 
oaths and invectives. 

Messengers from old Nun, Ephraim, and Hur had 
already informed the approaching throngs that the 
young men had gained a victory and liberated Joshua 
and the other captives ; but their discouragement had 
become so great that even this good news made little 
change, and only a flitting smile on the bearded lips of 


3°8 


JOSHUA. 


the men, or a sudden flash of the old light in the dark 
eyes of the women appeared. 

Miriam, accompanied by melancholy Milcah, had 
remained with her companions instead of, as usual, 
calling upon the women to thank the Most High. 

Reuben, the husband of her sorrowful ward whom 
fear of disappointment still deterred from yielding to 
his newly-awakened hopes, was a quiet, reticent man, so 
the first messenger did not know whether he was 
among the liberated prisoners. But great excitement 
overpowered Milcah and, when Miriam bade her be 
patient, she hurried from one playmate to another as- 
sailing them with urgent questions. When even the 
last could give her no information concerning the hus- 
band she had loved and lost, she burst into loud sobs 
and fled back to the prophetess. But she received 
little consolation, for the woman who was expecting to 
greet her own husband as a conqueror and see the 
rescued friend of her childhood, was absent-minded 
and troubled, as if some heavy burden oppressed her 
soul. 

Moses had left the tribes as soon as he learned that 
the attack upon the mines had succeeded and Joshua 
was rescued ; for it had been reported that the warlike 
Amalekites, who dwelt in the oasis at the foot of Mt. 
Sinai, were preparing to resist the Hebrews’ passage 
through their well-watered tract in the wilderness with 
its wealth of palms. Accompanied by a few picked 
men he set off across the mountains in quest of tidings, 
expecting to join his people between Alush and Rephi- 
dim in the valley before the oasis. 

Abidan, the head of the tribe of Benjamin, with 
Hur and Nun, the princes of Judah and Ephraim — • 


JOSHUA. 


3 ° 9 

after their return from the mines — were to represent 
him and his companions. 

As the people approached the steep pass Hur, with 
more of the rescued prisoners, came to meet them, and 
hurrying in advance of all the rest was young Reuben, 
Milcah’s lost husband. She had recognized him in the 
distance as he rushed down the mountain and, spite of 
Miriam’s protest, darted into the midst of the tribe of 
Simeon which marched in front of hers. 

The sight of their meeting cheered many a troubled 
spirit and when at last, clinging closely to each other, 
they hurried to Miriam and the latter beheld the face 
of her charge, it seemed as though a miracle had been 
wrought ; for the pale lily had become in the hue of 
her cheeks a blooming rose. Her lips, too, which she 
had but rarely and timidly opened for a question or an 
answer, were in constant motion; for how much she 
desired to know, how many questions she had to ask 
the silent husband who had endured such terrible 
suffering. 

They were a handsome, happy pair, and it seemed 
to them as if, instead of passing naked rocks over barren 
desert paths, they were journeying through a vernal 
landscape where springs were gushing and birds carol- 
ling their songs. 

Miriam, who had done everything in her power to 
sustain the grieving wife, was also cheered by the sight 
of her happiness. But every trace of joyous sympathy 
soon vanished from her features; for while Reuben 
and Milcah, as if borne on wings, seemed scarcely to 
touch the soil of the wilderness, she moved forward 
with drooping head, oppressed by the thought that it 


3io 


JOSHUA. 


was her own fault that no like happiness could bloom 
for her in this hour. 

She told herself that she had made a sore sacrifice, 
worthy of the highest reward and pleasing in the sight 
of God, when she refused to obey the voice of her 
heart, yet she could not banish from her memory the 
dying Egyptian who had denied her right to be num- 
bered among those who loved Hosea, the woman who 
for his sake had met so early a death. 

She, Miriam, lived, yet she had killed the most fer- 
vent desire of her soul ; duty forbade her thinking with 
ardent longing of him who lingered up yonder, devoted 
to the cause of his people and the God of his fathers, a 
free, noble man, perhaps the future leader of the 
warriors of her race, and if Moses so appointed, next to 
him the first and greatest of all the Hebrews, but lost, 
forever lost to her. 

Had she on that fateful night obeyed the yearning 
of her woman’s heart and not the demands of the voca- 
tion which placed her far above all other women, he 
would long since have clasped her in his arms, as quiet 
Reuben embraced his poor, feeble Milcah, now so joy- 
ous as she walked stoutly at his side. 

What thoughts were these ? 

She must drive them back to the inmost recesses of 
her heart, seek to crush them ; for it was a sin for her 
to long so ardently to meet another. She wished for 
her husband’s presence, as a saviour from herself and 
the forbidden desires of this terrible hour. 

Hur, the prince of the tribe of Judah, was her hus- 
band, not the former Egyptian, the liberated captive. 

What had she to ask from the Ephraimite, whom 
she had forever refused ? 


JOSHUA. 


3U 

Why should it hurt her that the liberated prisoner 
did not seek her; why did she secretly cherish the fool- 
ish hope that momentous duties detained him ? 

She scarcely saw or heard what was passing around 
her, and Milcah’s grateful greeting to her husband first 
informed her that Hur was approaching. 

He had waved his hand to her while still afar, but 
he came alone, without Hosea or Joshua, she cared not 
what the rescued man called himself; and it angered 
her to feel that this hurt her, nay, pierced her to the 
heart. Yet she esteemed her elderly husband and it 
was not difficult for her to give him a cordial wel- 
come. 

He answered her greeting joyously and tenderly ; 
but when she pointed to the re-united pair and extolled 
him as victor and deliverer of Reuben and so many 
hapless men, he frankly owned that he had no right to 
this praise, it was the due of “Joshua,” whom she her- 
self had summoned in the name of the Most High to 
command the warriors of the people. 

Miriam turned pale and, in spite of the steepness 
of the road, pressed her husband with questions. 
When she heard that Joshua was resting on the heights 
with his father and the young men and refreshing them- 
selves with wine, and that Hur had promised to resign 
voluntarily, if Moses desired to entrust the command to 
him, her heavy eye-brows contracted in a gloomy frown 
beneath her broad forehead and, with curt severity, she 
exclaimed : 

“You are my lord, and it is not seemly for me to 
oppose you, not even if you forget your own wife so 
far that you give place to the man who once ventured 
to raise his eyes to her.” 


312 


JOSHUA. 


“ He no longer cares for you,” Hur eagerly inter- 
rupted; “nay, were I to give you a letter of divorce, 
he would no longer desire to possess you.” 

“Would he not?” asked Miriam with a forced 
smile. “ Do you owe this information to him ?” 

“ He has devoted himself, body and soul, to the 
welfare of the people and renounces the love of 
woman,” replied Hur. But his wife exclaimed : 

“ Renunciation is easy, where desire would bring 
nothing save fresh rejection and shame. Not to him 
who, in the hour of the utmost peril, sought aid from 
the Egyptians is the honor of the chief command of 
the warriors due, but rather to you, who led the tribes 
to the first victory at the store-house in Succoth and to 
whom the Lord Himself, through Moses His servant, 
confided the command.” 

Hur looked anxiously at the woman for whom a 
late, fervent love had fired his heart, and seeing her 
glowing cheeks and hurried breathing, knew not 
whether to attribute these symptoms to the steep ascent 
or to the passionate ambition of her aspiring soul, which 
she now transferred to him, her husband. 

That she held him in so much higher esteem than 
the younger hero, whose return he had dreaded, pleased 
him, but he had grown grey in the strict fulfilment of 
duty, and would not deviate from what he considered 
right. His mere hints had been commands to the wife 
of his youth whom he had borne to the grave a few 
years before, and as yet he had encountered no oppo- 
sition from Miriam. That Joshua was best fitted to 
command the fighting-men of the people was unques- 
tionable, so he answered, with panting breath, for the 
ascent taxed his strength also : 


JOSHUA. 


3 T 3 

“ Your good opinion is an honor and a pleasure to 
me; but even should Moses and the elders confer the 
chief command upon me, remember the heap of stones 
at Succoth and my vow. I have ever been mindful of 
and shall keep it. 

Miriam looked angrily aside, and said nothing more 
till they had reached the summit of the pass. 

The victorious youths were greeting their approach- 
ing kindred with loud shouts. 

The joy of meeting, the provisions captured, and 
the drink which, though sparingly distributed, was di- 
vided among the greatest sufferers, raised the drooping 
courage of the exhausted wayfarers ; and the thirsting 
Hebrews shortened the rest at the summit of the pass 
in order to reach Dophkah more quickly. They had 
heard from Joshua that they would find there not only 
ruined cisterns, but also a hidden spring whose exist- 
ence had been revealed to him by the ex-captain of the 
prisoners’ guards. 

The way led down the mountain. “ Haste ” was 
the watchword of the fainting Hebrews on their way 
to a well ; and thus, soon after sunset, they reached the 
valley of the turquoise mines, where they encamped 
around the hill crowned by the ruined fortress and 
burned store-houses of Dophkah. 

The spring in an acacia grove dedicated to the 
goddess Hathor was speedily found, and fire after fire 
was quickly lighted. The wavering hearts which, in 
the desert of Sin, had been on the verge of despair 
were again filled with the anticipation of life, hope, 
and grateful faith. The beautiful acacias, it is true, 
had been felled to afford easier access to the spring 


JOSHUA. 


3H 

whose refreshing waters had effected this wonderful 
change. 

At the summit of the pass Joshua and Miriam had 
met again, but found time only for a hasty greeting. 
In the camp they were brought into closer relations. 

Joshua had appeared among the people with his 
father. The heir of the princely old man who was 
held in such high esteem received joyous greetings 
from all sides, and his counsel to form a vanguard of 
the youthful warriors, a rear-guard of the older ones, 
and send out chosen bands of the former on reconnoi- 
tering expeditions was readily adopted. 

He had a right to say that he was familiar with 
everything pertaining to the guidance and defence of a 
large army. God Himself had entrusted him with the 
chief command, and Moses, by sending him the mo- 
nition to be strong and steadfast, had confirmed the 
office. Hur, too, who now possessed it, was willing to 
transfer it to him, and this man’s promise was inviolable, 
though he had omitted to repeat it in the presence of 
the elders. Joshua was treated as if he held the chief 
command, and he himself felt his own authority 
supreme. 

After the assembly dispersed, Hur had invited him, 
spite of the late hour, to go to his tent and the warrior 
accompanied him, for he desired to talk with Miriam. 
He would show her, in her husband’s presence, that he 
had found the path which she had so zealously pointed 
out to him. 

In the presence of another’s wife the tender emotions 
of a Hebrew were silent. Hur’s consort must be made 
aware that he, Joshua, no longer cherished any love for 


JOSHUA. 


315 


her. Even in his solitary hours, he had wholly ceased 
to think of her. 

He confessed that she was a noble, a majestic 
woman, but the very memory of this grandeur now 
sent a chill through his veins. 

Her actions, too, appeared in a new light. Nay, 
when at the summit of the pass she had greeted him 
with a cold smile, he felt convinced that they were 
utterly estranged from one another, and this feeling 
grew stronger and stronger beside the blazing fire in 
the stately tent of the chief, where they met a second 
time. 

The rescued Reuben and his wife Milcah had de- 
serted Miriam long before and, during her lonely 
waiting, many thoughts had passed through her mind 
which she meant to impress upon the man to whom 
she had granted so much that its memory now weighed 
on her heart like a crime. 

We are most ready to be angry with those to whom 
we have been unjust, and this woman regarded the 
gift of her love as something so great, so precious, that 
it behooved even the man whom she had rejected never 
to cease to remember it with gratitude. But Joshua 
had boasted that he no longer desired, even were she 
offered to him, the woman whom he had once so fer- 
vently loved and clasped in his embrace. Nay, he had 
confirmed this assertion by leisurley waiting, without 
seeking her. 

At last he came, and in company with her husband, 
who was ready to cede his place to him. 

But she was present, ready to watch with open 
eyes for the welfare of the too generous Hur. 

The elderly man, to whose fate she had linked her 


3 l6 


JOSHUA. 


own, and whose faithful devotion touched her, should 
be defrauded by no rival of the position which was his 
due, and which he must retain, if only because she 
rebelled against being the wife of a man who could no 
longer claim next to her brothers the highest rank in 
the tribes. 

Never before had the much-courted woman, who 
had full faith in her gift of prophesy, felt so bitter, sore, 
and irritated. She did not admit it even to herself, yet 
it seemed as if the hatred of the Egyptians with which 
Moses had inspired her, and which was now futile, had 
found a new purpose and was directed against the 
only man whom she had ever loved. 

But a true woman can always show kindness to 
everyone whom she does not scorn, so though she 
blushed deeply at the sight of the man whose kiss she 
had returned, she received him cordially, and with 
sympathetic questions. 

Meanwhile, however, she addressed him by his for- 
mer name Hosea, and when he perceived it was 
intentional, he asked if she had forgotten that it was 
she herself who, as the confidante of the Most High, 
had commanded him henceforward to call himself 
“ Joshua.” 

Her features grew sharper with anxiety as she re- 
plied that her memory was good but he reminded her 
of a time which she would prefer to forget. He had 
himself forfeited the name the Lord had given him by 
preferring the favor of the Egyptians to the help which 
God had promised. Faithful to the old custom, she 
would continue to call him “ Hosea.” 

The honest-hearted soldier had not expected such 
hostility, but he maintained a tolerable degree of com- 


JOSHUA. 


317 


posure and answered quietly that he would rarely afford 
her an opportunity to address him by this or any other 
name. Those who were his friends readily adopted 
that of Joshua. 

Miriam replied that she, too, would be ready to do 
so if her husband approved and he himself insisted 
upon it ; for the name was only a garment. Of course 
offices and honors were another matter. 

When Joshua then declared that he still believed 
God Himself had summoned him, through the lips of His 
prophetess, to command the Hebrew soldiers and that 
he would admit the right of no one save Moses to de- 
prive him of his claim to this office, Hur assented and 
held out his hand to him. 

Then Miriam dropped the restraint she had hitherto 
imposed on herself and, with defiant eagerness, con- 
tinued : 

“ There I am of a different opinion. You did not obey 
the summons of the Most High. Can you deny this ? 
And when the Omnipresent One found you at the feet 
of Pharaoh, instead of at the head of His people, He 
deprived you of the office with which He had entrusted 
you. He, the mightiest of generals, summoned the tem- 
pest and the waves, and they swallowed up the foe. So 
perished those who were your friends till their heavy 
fetters made you realize their true disposition toward 
you and your race. But I, meanwhile, was extolling the 
mercy of the Most High, and the people joined in my 
hymn of praise. On that very day the Lord summoned 
another to command the fighting-men in your stead, and 
that other, as you know, is my husband. If Hur has 
never learned the art of war, God will surely guide his 
arm, and it is He and none other who bestows victory. 


JOSHUA. 


3 l8 

My husband — hear it again — is the sole commander of 
the hosts and if, in the abundance of his generosity, he 
has forgotten it, he will retain his office when he re- 
members whose hand chose him, and when I, his wife, 
raise my voice and recall it to his memory.” 

Joshua turned to go, in order to end the painful 
discussion, but Hur detained him, protesting that he 
was deeply incensed by his wife’s unseemly interference in 
the affairs of men, and that he insisted on his promise. 
“ A woman’s disapproving words were blown away by 
the wind. It would be Moses’ duty to declare whom 
Jehovah had chosen to be commander.” 

While making this reply Hur had gazed at his wife 
with stem dignity, as if admonishing discretion, and the 
look seemed to have effected its purpose ; for Miriam had 
alternately flushed and paled as she listened ; nay, she 
even detained the guest by beckoning him with a 
trembling hand to approach, as though she desired to 
soothe him. 

“ Let me say one thing more,” she began, drawing 
a long breath, “ that you may not misunderstand my 
meaning. I call everyone our friend who devotes him- 
self to the cause of the people, and how self-sacrific- 
ingly you intend to do this, Hur has informed me. It 
was your confidence in Pharaoh’s favor that parted us 
— therefore I know how to prize your firm and decisive 
breach with the Egyptians, but I did not correctly 
estimate the full grandeur of this deed until I learned 
that not only long custom, but other bonds, united you 
to the foe.” 

“ What is the meaning of these words ?” replied 
Joshua, convinced that she had just fitted to the bow- 
string another shaft intended to wound him. But 


JOSHUA. 


319 


Miriam, unheeding the question, calmly continued with 
a defiant keenness of glance that contradicted her 
measured speech : 

“After the Lord’s guidance had delivered us from 
the enemy, the Red Sea washed ashore the most beauti- 
ful woman we have seen for a long time. I bandaged 
the wound a Hebrew woman dealt her and she ac- 
knowledged that her heart was filled with love for you, 
and that on her dying bed she regarded you as the idol 
of her soul.” 

Joshua, thoroughly incensed, exclaimed: 

“ If this is the whole truth, wife of Hur, my father 
has given me a false report; for according to what I 
heard from him, the hapless woman made her last con- 
fession only in the presence of those who love me ; not 
in yours. And she was right to shun you — you would 
never have understood her.” 

Here he saw a smile of superiority hover around 
Miriam’s lips ; but he repelled it, as he went on : 

“Ah, your intellect is tenfold keener than poor 
Kasana’s ever was. But your heart, which was open 
to the Most High, had no room for love. It will grow 
old and cease to beat without having learned the feel- 
ing. And, spite of your flashing eyes, I will tell you : 
you are more than a woman, you are a prophetess. I 
cannot boast of gifts so lofty. I am merely a plain 
man, who understands the art of fighting better than 
that of foretelling the future. Yet I can see what is to 
come. You will foster the hatred of me that glows in 
your breast, and will also implant it in your husband’s 
heart and zealously strive to fan it there. And I know 
why. The fiery ambition which consumes you will 
not suffer you to be the wife of a man who is second to 
44 


3 2 ° 


JOSHUA. 


any other. You refuse to call me by the name I owe 
to you. But if hatred and arrogance do not stifle in 
your breast the one feeling that still unites us — love 
for our people, the day will come when you will volun- 
tarily approach and, unasked, by the free impulse of 
your heart, call me 4 Joshua.’” 

With these words he took leave of Miriam and her 
husband by a short wave of the hand, and vanished in 
the darkness of the night. 

Hur gazed gloomily after him in silence until the 
footsteps of the belated guest had died away in the 
sleeping camp; then the ill-repressed wrath of the 
grave man, who had hitherto regarded his young wife 
with tender admiration, knew no bounds. 

With two long strides he stood directly before her 
as she gazed with a troubled look into the fire, her face 
even paler than his own. His voice had lost its 
metallic harmony, and sounded shrill and sharp as he 
exclaimed : 

“ I had the courage to woo a maiden who supposed 
herself to be nearer to God than other women, and 
now that she has become my wife she makes me atone 
for such presumption.” 

“ Atone ?” escaped Miriam’s livid lips, and a defiant 
glance blazed at him from her black eyes. But, undis- 
mayed, he continued, grasping her hand with so firm a 
pressure that it hurt her 

“ Aye, you make me atone for it ! — Shame on me, 
if I permit this disgraceful hour to be followed by 
similar ones.” 

Miriam strove to wrest her hand from his clasp, but 
he would not release it, and went on : 

“ I sought you, that you might be the pride of my 


JOSHUA. 


321 


house. I expected to sow honor, and I reap disgrace ; 
for what could be more humiliating to a man than to 
have a wife who rules him, who presumes to wound 
with hostile words the heart of the friend who is pro- 
tected by the laws of hospitality ? A woman of 
different mould, a simple-hearted, upright wife, who 
looked at her husband’s past life, instead of planning 
how to increase his greatness, that she might share it 
with him, need not have had me shout into her ears 
that Hur has garnered honors and dignities enough, 
during his long existence, to be able to spare a portion 
of them without any loss of esteem. It is not the man 
who holds the chief command, but the one who shows 
the most self-sacrificing love for the people that is 
greatest in the eyes of Jehovah. You desire a high 
place, you seek to be honored by the multitude as one 
who is summoned by the Lord. I shall not forbid it, 
so long as you do not forget what the duty of a wife 
commands. You owe me love also; for you vowed to 
give it on your marriage day; but the human heart 
can bestow only what it possesses, and Hosea is right 
when he says that love, which is warm itself and warms 
others, is a feeling alien to your cold nature.” 

With these words he turned his back upon her and 
went to the dark portion of the tent, while Miriam re- 
mained standing by the fire, whose flickering light 
illumined her beautiful, pallid face. 

With clenched teeth and hands pressed on her 
heaving bosom, she stood gazing at the spot where he 
had disappeared. 

Her grey-haired husband had confronted her in the 
full consciousness of his dignity, a noble man worthy of 
reverence, a true, princely chief of his tribe, and in- 


3 22 


JOSHUA. 


finitely her superior. His every word had pierced her 
bosom like the thrust of a lance. The power of truth 
had given each its full emphasis and held up to Miriam 
a mirror that showed her an image from which she 
shrank. 

Now she longed to rush after him and beg him to 
restore the love with which he had hitherto surrounded 
her — and which the lonely woman had gratefully felt. 

She knew that she could reciprocate his costly 
gift; for how ardently she longed to have one kind, 
forgiving word from his lips. 

Her soul seemed withered, parched, torpid, like a 
corn-field on which a poisonous mildew has fallen ; yet 
it had once been green and blooming. 

She thought of the tilled fields in Goshen which, 
after having borne an abundant harvest, remained arid 
and bare till the moisture of the river came to soften 
the soil and quicken the seed which it had received. 
So it had been with her soul, only she had flung the 
ripening grain into the fire and, with blasphemous hand, 
erected a dam between the fructifying moisture and the 
dry earth. 

But there was still time ! 

She knew that he erred in one respect ; she knew 
she was like all other women, capable of yearning with 
ardent passion for the man she loved. It depended 
solely on herself to make him feel this in her arms. 

Now, it is true, he was justified in thinking her harsh 
and unfeeling, for where love had once blossomed in 
her soul, a spring of bitterness now gushed forth poison- 
ing all it touched. 

Was this the vengeance of the heart whose ardent 
wishes she had heroically slain ? 


JOSHUA. 


323 


God had disdained her sorest sacrifice ; this it was 
impossible to doubt ; for His majesty was no longer re- 
vealed to her in visions that exalted the heart, and she 
was scarcely entitled to call herself His prophetess. 
This sacrifice had led her, the truth-loving woman, into 
falsehood and plunged her who, in the consciousness of 
seeking the right path lived at peace with herself, into 
torturing untrest. Since that great and difficult deed 
she, who had once been full of hope, had obtained 
nothing for which she longed. She, who recognized no 
woman as her superior, had been obliged to yield in 
shame her place to a poor dying Egyptian. She had 
been kindly disposed toward all who were of her blood, 
and were devoted to the sacred cause of her people, and 
now her hostile bitterness had wounded one of the best 
and noblest. The poorest bondman’s wife rejoiced to 
bind more and more closely the husband who had once 
loved her — she had wickedly estranged hers. 

Seeking protection she had approached his hearth- 
stone shivering, but she had found it warmer than she 
had hoped, and his generosity and love fell upon her 
wounded soul like balm. True, he could not restore 
what she had lost, but he could give a welcome com- 
pensation. 

Ah, he no longer believed her capable of a tender 
emotion, yet she needed love in order to live, and no 
sacrifice seemed to her too hard to regain his. But 
pride was also a condition of her very existence, and 
whenever she prepared to humbly open her heart to her 
husband, the fear of humiliating herself overpowered 
her, and she stood as though spell-bound till the blazing 
wood at her feet fell into smoking embers and darkness 
surrounded her. 


324 


JOSHUA. 


Then a strange anxiety stole over her. 

Two bats, which had come from the mines and 
circled round the fire darted past her like ghosts. 
Everything urged her back to the tent, to her husband, 
and with hasty resolution she entered the spacious 
room lighted by a lamp. But it was empty, and the 
female slave who received her said that Hur would 
spend the time until the departure of the people with 
his son and grandson. 

A keen pang pierced her heart, and she lay down 
to rest with a sense of helplessness and shame which 
she had not felt since her childhood. 

A few hours after the camp was astir and when her 
husband, in the grey dawn of morning, entered the 
tent with a curt greeting pride again raised its 
head and her reply sounded cold and formal. 

He did not come alone ; his son Uri was with 
him. 

But he looked graver than was his wont; for the 
men of Judah had assembled early and adjured him 
not to give up the chief command to any man who be- 
longed to another tribe. 

This had been unexpected. He had referred them 
to Moses’ decision, and his desire that it might be ad- 
verse to him was intensified, as his young wife’s 
self-reliant glance stirred fresh wrath in his soul. 


CHAPTER XXVI. 


Early the following morning the people resumed 
their march with fresh vigor and renewed courage; 


JOSHUA. 


325 


but the little spring which, by digging, had at last been 
forced to flow was completely exhausted. 

However, its refusal to bestow a supply of water to 
take with them was of no consequence ; they expected 
to find another well at Alush. 

The sun had risen in radiant majesty in a cloudless 
sky. The light showed its awakening power on the 
hearts of men, and the rocks and the yellow sand of the 
road sparkled like the blue vault above. The pure, 
light, spicy air of the desert, cooled by the freshness of 
the night, expanded the breasts of the wayfarers, and 
walking became a pleasure. 

The men showed greater confidence, and the eyes 
of the women sparkled more brightly than they had 
done for a long time ; for the Lord had again showed 
the people that He remembered them in their need; 
and fathers and mothers gazed proudly at the sons who 
had conquered the foe. Most of the tribes had greeted 
in the band of prisoners some one who had long been 
given up as lost, and it was a welcome duty to make 
amends for the injuries the terrible forced labor had in- 
flicted. There was special rejoicing, not only among 
the Ephraimites, but everywhere, over the return of 
Joshua, as all, save the men of the tribe of Judah, 
now called him, remembering the cheering promise the 
name conveyed. 

The youths who under his command had put the 
Egyptians to rout, told their relatives what manner of 
man the son of Nun was, how he thought of every- 
thing and assigned to each one the place for which he 
was best suited. His eye kindled the battle spirit in 
every one on whom it fell, and the foe retreated at his 
mere war-cry. 


326 


JOSHUA. 


Those who spoke of old Nun and his grandson also 
did so with sparkling eyes. The tribe of Ephraim, 
whose lofty pretensions had been a source of much 
vexation, was willingly allowed precedence on this 
march, and only the men of Judah were heard to 
grumble. Doubtless there was reason for dissatisfaction ; 
for Hur, the prince of their tribe, and his young wife 
walked as if oppressed by a heavy burden; whoever 
asked them anything would have been wiser to have 
chosen another hour. 

So long as the sun's rays were oblique, there was 
still a little shade at the edge of the sandstone rocks 
which bordered the road on both sides or towered aloft 
in the center; and as the sons of Korah began a song 
of praise, young and old joined in, and most gladly and 
gratefully of all Milcah, now no longer pale, and 
Reuben, her happy, liberated husband. 

The children picked up golden-yellow bitter apples, 
which having fallen from the withered vines, lay by the 
wayside as if they had dropped from the sky, and 
brought them to their parents. But they were bitter as 
gall and a morose old man of the tribe of Zebulun, 
who nevertheless kept their firm shells to hold oint- 
ment, said : 

“ These are a symbol of to-day. It looks pleasant 
now ; but when the sun mounts higher and we find no 
water, we shall taste the bitterness.” 

His prediction was verified only too soon; for as 
the road which, after leaving the sandstone region, 
began to lead upward through a rocky landscape which 
resembled walls of red brick and grey stone, grew 
steeper, the sun rose higher and higher and the heat of 
the day hourly increased. 


JOSHUA. 


327 


Never had the sun sent sharper arrows upon the 
travellers, and pitiless was their fall upon bare heads 
and shoulders. 

Here an old man, yonder a younger one, sank 
prostrate under its scorching blaze or, supported by 
his friends, staggered on raving with his hand pressed 
to his brow like a drunken man. The blistered skin 
peeled from the hands and faces of men and women, 
and there was not one whose palate and tongue were 
not parched by the heat, or whose vigorous strength 
and newly-awakened courage it did not impair. 

The cattle moved forward with drooping heads and 
dragging feet or rolled on the ground till the shepherds’ 
lash compelled them to summon their failing powers. 

At noon the people were permitted to rest, but 
there was not a hand’s breadth of shade where they 
sought repose. Whoever lay down in the noonday 
heat found fresh tortures instead of relief. The suf- 
ferers themselves urged a fresh start for the spring at 
Alush. 

Hitherto each day, after the sun had begun its 
course toward the west through the cloudless sky of 
the desert, the heat had diminished, and ere the ap- 
proach of twilight a fresher breeze had fanned the 
brow ; but to-day the rocks retained the glow of noon- 
day for many hours, until a light cool breeze blew from 
sea at the west. At the same time the vanguard 
which, by Joshua’s orders, preceded the travellers, 
halted, and the whole train stopped. 

Men, women, and children fixed their eyes and 
waved hands, staves, and crutches toward the same 
spot, where the gaze was spell-bound by a wondrous 
spectacle never beheld before. 


328 


JOSHUA. 


A cry of astonishment and admiration echoed from 
the parched weary lips, which had long since ceased to 
utter question or answer; and it soon rang from rank to 
rank, from tribe to tribe, to the very lepers at the end 
of the procession and the rear-guard which followed it. 
One touched another, and whispered a name familiar 
to every one, that of the sacred mountain where the 
Lord had promised Moses to “bring them unto a 
good land and a large, unto a land flowing with milk 
and honey.” 

No one had told the weary travellers, yet all knew 
that for the first time they beheld Horeb and the peak 
of Sinai, the most sacred summit of this granite range. 

Though a mountain, it was also the throne of the 
omnipotent God of their fathers. 

The holy mountain itself seemed at this hour to be 
on fire like the bush whence He had spoken to His 
chosen servant. Its summit, divided into seven peaks, 
towered majestically aloft in the distance, dominating 
the heights and valleys far and near, glowing before the 
people like a giant ruby, irradiated by the light of a 
conflagration which was consuming the world. 

No eye had ever beheld a similar spectacle. Then 
the sun sank lower and lower, till it set in the sea 
concealed behind the mountains. The glowing ruby 
was transformed into a dark amethyst, and at last as- 
sumed the deep hue of a violet; but the eyes of the 
people continued to dwell on the sacred scenes as 
though spell-bound. Nay, when the day-star had com- 
pletely disappeared, and its reflection gilded a long 
cloud with shining edges, their eyes dilated still more, 
for a man of the tribe of Benjamin, overwhelmed by 
the grandeur of the spectacle, beheld in it the floating 


JOSHUA. 


329 


gold-bordered mantle of Jehovah, and the neighbors to 
whom he showed it, believed him, and shared his pious 
excitement. 

This inspiring sight had made the Hebrews for a 
short time forget thirst and weariness. But the highest 
exaltation was soon to be transformed into the deepest 
discouragement; for when night closed in and Alush 
was reached after a short march it appeared that the 
desert tribe which dwelt there, ere striking their tents 
the day before, had filled the brackish spring with 
pebbles and rubbish. 

Everything fit to drink which had been brought 
with them had been consumed at Dophkah, and the ex- 
hausted spring at the mines had afforded no water to 
fill the skins. Thirst not only parched their palates but 
began to fever their bowels. Their dry throats refused 
to receive the solid food of which there was no lack. 

Scenes that could not fail to rouse both ruth and 
anger were seen and heard on all sides. 

Here men and women raved and swore, wailed and 
moaned, yonder they gave themselves up to dull 
despair. Others, whose crying children shrieked for 
water, had gone to the choked spring and were quar- 
relling around a little spot on the ground, whence they 
hoped to collect a few drops of the precious fluid in a 
shallow dish. The cattle, too, lowed so mournfully and 
beseechingly that it pierced the shepherds’ hearts like a 
reproach. 

Few took the trouble to pitch a tent. The night 
was so warm, and the sooner they pressed forward 
the better, for Moses had promised to join them a 
few leagues hence. He alone could aid, it was his 
duty to protect man and beast from perishing. 


330 


JOSHUA. 


If the God who had promised them such splendid 
gifts left them to die in the wilderness with their cattle, 
the man to whose guidance they had committed them- 
selves was a cheat; and the God whose might and 
mercy he never ceased extolling was more false and 
powerless than the idols with heads of human beings 
and animals, to whom they had prayed in Egypt. 

Threats, too, were loudly uttered amid curses and 
blasphemies. Wherever Aaron, who had returned to 
the people, appeared and addressed them, clenched 
fists were stretched toward him. 

Miriam, too, by her husband's bidding, was com- 
pelled to desist from comforting the women with sooth- 
ing words, after a mother whose infant was expiring at 
her dry breast, picked up a stone and others followed 
her example. 

Old Nun and his son found more attentive hearers. 

Both agreed that Joshua must fight, no matter in 
what position Moses placed him ; but Hur himself led 
him to the warriors, who joyously greeted him. 

Both the old man and the younger one understood 
how to infuse confidence. They told them of the well- 
watered oasis of the Amalekites, which was not far 
distant, and pointed to the weapons in their hands, 
with which the Lord Himself had furnished them. 

Joshua assured them that they greatly outnumbered 
the warriors of the desert tribe. If the young men 
bore themselves as bravely as they had done at the 
copper mines and at Dophkah, with God’s aid the vic- 
tory would be theirs. 

After midnight Joshua, having taken counsel with 
the elders, ordered the trumpets which summoned the 
fighting-men to be sounded. Under the bright starry 


JOSHUA. 


331 


sky he reviewed them, divided them into bands, gave 
to each a fitting leader, and impressed upon them the 
importance of the orders they were to obey. 

They had assembled torpidly, half dead with thirst, 
but the new occupation to which their sturdy com- 
mander urged them, the hope of victory, and the great 
value of the prize : a piece of land at the foot of the 
sacred mountain, rich in springs and palm-trees, won- 
derfully strengthened their lost energy. 

Ephraim was among them animating others by his 
tireless vigor. But when the ex-chief of the Egyptians — 
whom the Lord had already convinced that He con- 
sidered him worthy of the aid his name promised — 
adjured them to rely on God’s omnipotence, his words 
produced a very different effect from those uttered by 
Aaron whose monitions they had heard daily since 
their departure. 

When Joshua had spoken, many youthful lips, though 
parched with thirst, shouted enthusiastically : 

“ Hail to the chief! You are our captain ; we will 
obey no other.” 

But he now explained gravely and resolutely that 
the obedience he exacted from them he intended to 
practise rigidly himself. He would willingly take the 
last place in the ranks, if such was the command of 
Moses. 

The stars were still shining brightly in a cloudless 
sky when the sound of the horns warned the people 
to set out on their march. Meanwhile the vanguard 
had been sent forward to inform Moses of the condi- 
tion of the tribes, and after the review was over, 
Ephraim followed them. 

During the march Joshua kept the warriors together 


332 


JOSHUA. 


as closely as though an attack might be expected; 
profiting meanwhile by every moment to give the men 
and their captains instructions for the coming battle, 
to inspect them, and range their ranks in closer order. 
Thus he kept them and their attention on the alert till 
the stars paled. 

Opposition or complaint was rare among the war- 
riors, but the murmurs, curses, and threats grew all the 
louder among those who bore no weapons. Even be- 
fore the grey dawn of morning the thirsting men, whose 
knees trembled with weakness, and who beheld close 
before their eyes the suffering of their wives and 
children, shouted more and more frequently : 

“ On to Moses ! We’ll stone him when we find 
him !” 

Many, with loud imprecations and flashing eyes, 
picked up bits of rock along the road, and the fury of 
the multitude at last expressed itself so fiercely and 
passionately that Hur took counsel with the well-dis- 
posed among the elders, and then hurried forward with 
the fighting-men of Judah to protect Moses, in case of 
extremity, from the rebels by force of arms. 

Joshua was commissioned to detain the bands of 
rioters who, amid threats and curses, were striving to 
force their way past the warriors. 

When the sun at last rose with dazzling splendor, 
the march had become a pitiful creeping and tottering 
onwafd. Even the soldiers moved as though they 
were paralysed. Only when the rebels tried to press 
onward, they did their duty and forced them back with 
swords and lances. 

On both sides of the valley through which the 
Hebrews were passing towered lofty cliffs of grey 


JOSHUA. 


333 


granite, which glittered and flashed marvellously when 
the slanting sunbeams struck the bits of quartz thickly 
imbedded in the primeval rock. 

At noon the heat could not fail to be scorching 
again between the bare precipices which in many 
places jutted very near one another ; but the coolness 
of the morning still lingered. The cattle at least found 
some refreshment ; for many a bush of the juicy, fra- 
grant betharan* afforded them food, and the shepherd- 
lads lifted their short frocks, filled the aprons thus made 
with them and, spite of their own exhaustion, held 
them up to the hungry mouths of the animals. 

They had passed an hour in this way, when a loud 
shout of joy suddenly rang out, passing from the van- 
guard through rank after rank till it reached the last 
man in the rear. 

No one had heard in words to what event it was 
due, yet every one knew that it meant nothing else 
than the discovery of fresh water. 

Ephraim now returned to confirm the glad tidings, 
and what an effect it produced upon the discouraged 
hearts ! 

They straightened their bent figures and struggled 
onward with redoubled speed, as if they had already 
drained the water jar in long draughts. The bands of 
fighting-men put no farther obstacles in their way, 
and joyously greeted those who crowded past them. 

But - the swiftly flowing throng was soon dammed ; 
for the spot which afforded refreshment detained the 
front ranks, which blocked the whole procession as 
thoroughly as a wall or moat. 

The multitude became a mighty mob that filled the 

* Cantolina fragrantissima. 


334 


JOSHUA. 


valley. At last men and women, with joyous faces, 
appeared bearing full jars and pails in their hands and 
on their heads, beckoning gaily to their friends, shouting 
words of cheer, and trying to force their way through 
the crowd to their relatives ; but many had the precious 
liquid torn from them by force ere they reached their 
destination. 

Joshua and his band had forced their way to the 
vicinity of the spring, to maintain order among 
the greedy drawers of water. But they were obliged 
to have patience for a time, for the strong men of the 
tribe of Judah, with whom Hur had led the way in 
advance of all the rest, were still swinging their axes 
and straining at the levers hastily prepared from the 
trunks of the thorny acacias to move huge blocks out 
of the way and widen the passage to the flow of water 
that was gushing from several clefts in the rock. 

At first the spring had lost itself in a heap of moss- 
covered granite blocks and afterwards in the earth ; but 
now the overflow and trickling away of the precious 
fluid had been stopped and a reservoir formed whence 
the cattle also could drink. 

Whoever had already succeeded in filling a jar 
had obtained the water from the overflow which had 
escaped through the quickly-made dam. Now the 
men appointed to guard the camp were keeping every 
one back to give the water in the large new reservoir 
into which it flowed in surprising abundance, time to 
grow clear. 

In the presence of the gift of God for which they 
had so passionately shouted, it was easy to be patient. 
They had discovered the treasure and only needed to 
preserve it. No word of discontent, murmuring, or re- 


JOSHUA. 


335 


viling was heard ; nay, many looked with shame and 
humiliation at the new gift of the Most High. 

Loud, gladsome shouts and words echoed from the 
distance; but the man of God, who knew better than 
any one else, the valleys and rocks, pastures and 
springs of the Horeb region and had again obtained so 
great a blessing for the people, had retired into a neigh- 
boring ravine ; he was seeking refuge from the thanks 
and greetings which rose with increasing enthusiasm 
from ever widening circles, and above all peace and 
calmness for his own deeply agitated soul. 

Soon fervent hymns of praise to the Lord sounded 
from the midst of the refreshed, reinvigorated bands 
overflowing with ardent gratitude, who had never en- 
camped richer in hope and joyous confidence. 

Songs, merry laughter, jests, and glad shouts ac- 
companied the pitching of every tent, and the camp 
sprung up as quickly as if it had been conjured from 
the earth by some magic spell. 

The eyes of the young men sparkled with eagerness 
for the fray, and many a head of cattle was slaugh- 
tered to make the meal a festal banquet. — Mothers who 
had done their duty in the camp, leading their children 
by the hand went to the spring and showed them the 
spot where Moses’ staff had pointed out to his people 
the water gushing from the clefts in the granite. 
Many men also stood with hands and eyes uplifted 
around the place where Jehovah had shown Himself so 
merciful to His people ; among them many a rebel who 
had stooped for the bit of rock with which he meant to 
stone the trusted servant of God. No one doubted 
that a new and great miracle had been performed. 

Old people enjoined the young never to forget this 
45 


33 ^ 


JOSHUA. 


day and this drink, and a grandmother sprinkled her 
grandchildren’s brows at the edge of the spring with 
water to secure for them divine protection throughout 
their future lives. 

Hope, gratitude, and warm confidence reigned 
wherever the gaze was turned, even fear of the warlike 
sons of Amalek had vanished ; for what evil could befall 
those who trusted to the favor of such an Omnipotent 
Defender. 

One tent alone, the stateliest of all, that of the 
prince of the tribe of Judah, did not share the joy of 
the others. 

Miriam sat alone among her women, after having 
silently served the meal to the men who were overflow- 
ing with grateful enthusiasm; she had learned from 
Reuben, Milcah’s husband, that Moses had given to 
Joshua in the presence of all the elders, the office of 
commander-in-chief. Hur, her husband, she had heard 
farther, had joyfully yielded the guidance of the war- 
riors to the son of Nun. 

This time the prophetess had held aloof from the 
people’s hymns of praise. When Milcah and her 
women had urged her to accompany them to the 
spring, she had commanded the petitioners to go alone. 

She was expecting her husband and wished to greet 
him alone; she must show him that she desired his 
forgiveness. But he did not return home; for after the 
council of the elders had separated, he helped the new 
commander to marshal the soldiers and did so as an 
assistant, subordinate to Hosea, who owed to her his 
summons and the name of Joshua. 

Her servants, who had returned, were now drawing 
threads from the distaff : but this humble toil was dis- 


JOSHUA. 


337 


tasteful to her, and while she let her hands rest and 
gazed idly into vacancy, the hours dragged slowly 
along, while she felt her resolution of meekly ap- 
proaching her husband become weaker and weaker. 
She longed to pray for strength to bow before the man 
who was her lord and master ; but the prophetess, who 
was accustomed to fervent pleading, could not find 
inspiration. Whenever she succeeded in collecting 
her thoughts and uplifting her heart, she was disturbed. 
Each fresh report that reached her from the camp in- 
creased her displeasure. When evening at last closed 
in, a messenger arrived and told her not to prepare the 
supper which, however, had long stood ready. Hur, 
his son, and grandson had accepted the invitation of 
Nun and Joshua. 

It was a hard task for her to restrain her tears. 
But had she permitted them to flow uncontrolled, they 
would have been those of wrath and insulted womanly 
dignity, not of grief and longing. 

During the hours of the evening watch soldiers 
marched past, and from troop after troop cheers for 
Joshua reached her. 

Even when the words “ strong and steadfast !” were 
heard, they recalled the man who had once been dear 
to her, and whom now — she freely admitted it — she 
hated. The men of his own tribe only had honored 
her husband with a cheer. Was this fitting gratitude 
for the generosity with which he had divested himself, 
for the sake of the younger man, of a dignity that be- 
longed to him alone ? To see her husband thus 
slighted pierced her to the heart and caused her more 
pain than Hur’s leaving her, his newly-wedded wife, to 
solitude. 


33 * 


JOSHUA. 


The supper before the tent of the Ephraimites 
lasted a long time. Miriam sent her women to rest 
before midnight, and lay down to await Hur’s return 
and to confess to him all that had wounded and angered 
her, everything for which she longed. 

She thought it would be an easy matter to keep 
awake while suffering such mental anguish. But the 
great fatigues and excitements of the last few days 
asserted their rights, and in the midst of a prayer for 
humility and her husband’s love sleep overpowered her. 
At last, at the time of the first morning watch, just as 
day was dawning, the sound of trumpets announcing 
peril close at hand, startled her from sleep. 

She rose hurriedly and glancing at her husband’s 
couch found it empty. But it had been used, and on 
the sandy soil — for mats had been spread only in the 
living room of the tent — she saw close beside her own 
bed the prints of Hur’s footsteps. 

So he had stood close by it and perhaps, while she 
was sleeping, gazed yearningly into her face. 

Ay, this had really happened ; her old female slave 
told her so unasked. After she had roused Hur, she 
had seen him hold the light cautiously so that it illu- 
mined Miriam’s face and then stoop over her a long 
time as if to kiss her. 

This was good news, and so rejoiced the solitary 
woman that she forgot the formality which was peculiar 
to her and pressed her lips to the wrinkled brow of the 
crooked little crone who had served her parents. Then 
she had her hair arranged, donned the light-blue festal 
robe Hur had given her, and hurried out to bid him 
farewell. 

Meanwhile the troops had formed in battle array 


JOSHUA. 


339 


The tents were being struck and for a long time Miriam 
vainly sought her husband. At last she found him; 
but he was engaged in earnest conversation with 
Joshua, and when she saw the latter a chill ran through 
the prophetess’ blood, and she could not bring herself 
to approach the men. 


CHAPTER XXVII. 

A severe struggle was impending ; for as the spies 
reported, the Amalekites had been joined by other desert 
tribes. Nevertheless the Hebrew troops were twice 
their number. But how greatly inferior in warlike skill 
were Joshua’s bands to the foes habituated to battle 
and attack. 

The enemy was advancing from the south, from 
the oasis at the foot of the sacred mountain, which was 
the ancient home of their race, their supporter, the fair 
object of their love, their all, well worthy that they 
should shed their last drop of blood in her defence. 

Joshua, now recognized by Moses and the whole 
Hebrew people as the commander of the fighting-men, 
led his new-formed troops to the widest portion of the 
valley, which permitted him to derive more advantage 
from the superior number of his force. 

He ordered the camp to be broken up and again 
pitched in a narrower spot on the plain of Rephidim 
at the northern end of the battle-field, where it would 
be easier to defend the tents. The command of this 
camp and the soldiers left for its protection he confided 
to his cautious father. 


340 


JOSHUA. 


He had wished to leave Moses and the older princes 
of the tribes within the precincts of the well-guarded 
camp, but the great leader of the people had anticipated 
him and, with Hur and Aaron, had climbed a granite 
cliff from whose lofty summit the battle could be wit- 
nessed. So the combatants saw Moses and his two 
companions on the peak dominating the valley, and 
knew that the trusted servant of the Most High would 
not cease to commend their cause to Him and pray 
for their success and deliverance. 

But every private soldier in the army, every woman 
and old man in the camp knew how to find the God 
of their fathers in this hour of peril, and the war-cry 
Joshua had chosen: “Jehovah our standard!” bound 
the hearts of the warriors to the Ruler of Battles, and 
reminded the most despairing and untrained Hebrew 
that he could take no step and deal no blow which 
the Lord did not guide. 

The trumpets and horns of the Hebrews sounded 
louder and louder ; for the Amalekites were pressing 
into the plain which was to be the scene of the battle. 

It was a strange place of conflict, which the experi- 
enced soldier would never have selected voluntarily ; 
for it was enclosed on both sides by lofty, steep, grey 
granite cliffs. If the enemy conquered, the camp would 
be lost, and the aids the art of war afforded must be 
used within the smallest conceivable space. 

To make a circuit round the foe or attack him un- 
expectedly in the flank seemed impossible; but the 
rocks themselves were made to serve Joshua ; for he 
had commanded his skilful slingers and trained archers 
to climb the precipices to a moderate height and wait 
for the signal when they were to mingle in the battle. 


Joshua. 


34i 


At the first glance Joshua perceived that he had not 
overestimated the foe ; for those who began the fray 
were bearded men with bronzed, keen, manly features, 
whose black eyes blazed with the zest of battle and 
fierce hatred of the enemy. 

Like their grey-haired, scarred leader, all were 
slenderly formed and lithe of limb. They swung, like 
trained warriors, the brazen sickle-shaped sword, the 
curved shield of heavy wood, or the lance decked be- 
low its point with a bunch of camel’s hair. The war- 
cry rang loud, fierce, and defiant, from the steadfast 
breasts of these sons of the desert, who must either 
conquer or lose their dearest possession. 

The first assault was met by Joshua at the head of 
men, whom he had armed with the heavy shields and 
lances of the Egyptians ; incited by their brave leader 
they resisted a long time — while the narrow entrance 
to the battle field prevented the savage foe from using 
his full strength. 

But when the foe on foot retreated, and a band of 
warriors mounted on swift dromedaries dashed upon 
the Hebrews many were terrified by the strange aspect 
of the huge unwieldy beasts, known to them only by 
report. 

With loud outcries they flung down their shields 
and fled. Wherever a gap appeared in the ranks the 
rider of a dromedary urged it in, striking downward 
with his long keen weapon at the foe. The shepherds, 
unused to such assaults, thought only of securing their 
own safety, and many turned to fly ; for sudden terror 
seized them as they beheld the flaming eyes or heard 
the shrill, fierce shriek of one of the infuriated Amale- 
kite women, who had entered the battle to fire the 


342 


JOSHUA. 


courage of their husbands and terrify the foe. Cling- 
ing with the left hand to leather thongs that hung from 
the saddles, they allowed themselves to be dragged 
along by the hump-backed beasts wherever they were 
guided. Hatred seemed to have steeled the weak 
women’s hearts against the fear of death, pity, and 
feminine dread ; and the furious yells of these Megaerae 
destroyed the courage of many of the braver He- 
brews. 

But scarcely did Joshua see his men yield than, 
profiting by the disaster, he commanded them to retreat 
still farther and give the foe admittance to the valley ; 
for he told himself that he could turn the superior num- 
ber of his forces to better account as soon as it was 
possible to press the enemy in front and on both sides at 
the same time, and allow the slingers and bowmen to 
take part in the fray. 

Ephraim and his bravest comrades, who surrounded 
him as messengers, were now despatched to the northern 
end of the valley to inform the captains of the troops 
stationed there of Joshua’s intention and command 
them to advance. 

The swift-footed shepherd lads darted off as nimbly 
as gazelles, and it was soon evident that the commander 
had adopted the right course for, as soon as the 
Amalekites reached the center of the valley, they were 
attacked on all sides, and many who boldly rushed 
forward fell on the sand while still waving sword or 
lance, struck by the round stones or keen arrows dis- 
charged by the slingers and archers stationed on the 
cliffs. 

Meanwhile Moses, with Aaron and Hur, remained 
on the cliff overlooking the battle-field. 


JOSHUA. 


343 


Thence the former watched the conflict in which, 
grown grey in the arts of peace, he shared only with 
liis heart and soul. 

No movement, no uplifted or lowered sword of 
friend or foe escaped his watchful gaze; but when the 
attack began and the commander, with wise purpose, 
left the way to the heart of his army open to the 
enemy, Hur exclaimed to the grey-haired man of 
God: 

“ The lofty intellect of my wife and your sister per- 
ceived the right course. The son of Nun is unworthy 
of the summons of the Most High. What strategy ! 
Our force is superior, yet the foe is pressing unimpeded 
into the midst of the army. Our troops are dividing 
as the waters of the Red Sea parted at God’s command, 
and apparently by their leader’s order.” 

“ To swallow up the Amalekites as the waves of 
the sea engulfed the Egyptians,” was Moses’ answer. 

Then, stretching his arms toward heaven, he cried : 

“ Look down, Jehovah, upon Thy people who are 
in fresh need. Steel the arm and sharpen the eyes of 
him whom Thou didst choose for Thy sword ! Lend 
him the help Thou didst promise, when Thou didst 
name him Joshua! And if it is no longer Thy will 
that he who shows himself strong and steadfast, as be- 
seems Thy captain, should lead our forces to the battle, 
place Thyself, with the hosts of Heaven, at the head of 
Thy people, that they may crush their foes.” 

Thus the man of God prayed with arms uplifted, 
never ceasing to beseech and appeal to God, whose 
lofty will guided his own, and soon Aaron whispered 
that their foes were sore beset and the Hebrews’ 
courage was showing itself in magnificent guise. 


344 


JOSHUA. 


Joshua was now here, now there, and the ranks of the 
enemy were already thinning, while the numbers of the 
Hebrews seemed increasing. 

Hur confirmed these words, adding that the tireless 
zeal and heroic scorn of death displayed by the son of 
Nun could not be denied. He had just felled one of 
the fiercest Amalekites with his battle-axe. 

Then Moses uttered a sigh of relief, let his arms 
fall, and eagerly watched the farther progress of the 
battle, which was surging, raging and roaring beneath 
him. 

Meanwhile the sun had reached its zenith and 
shone with scorching fire upon the combatants. The 
grey granite walls of the valley exhaled fiercer and 
fiercer heat and drops of perspiration had long been 
pouring from the burning brows of the three men on 
the cliff. How the noon-tide heat must burden those 
who were fighting and struggling below; how the 
bleeding wounds of those who had fallen in the dust 
must burn ! 

Moses felt all this as if he were himself compelled 
to endure it ; for his immovably steadfast soul was rich 
in compassion, and he had taken into his heart, as a 
father does his child, the people of his own blood for 
whom he lived and labored, prayed and planned. 

The wounds of the Hebrews pained him, yet his 
heart throbbed with joyous pride, when he beheld how 
those whose cowardly submission had so powerfully 
stirred his wrath a short time before, had learned to 
act on the defensive and offensive ; and saw one youth- 
ful band after another shouting: “Jehovah our stan- 
dard !” rush upon the enemy. 

In Joshua’s proud, heroic figure he beheld the de- 


JOSHUA. 


345 


scendants of his people as he had imagined and desired 
them, and now he no longer doubted that the Lord 
Himself had summoned the son of Nun to the chief 
command. His eye had rarely beamed as brightly as 
in this hour. 

But what was that ? 

A cry of alarm escaped the lips of Aaron, and Hur 
rose and gazed northward in anxious suspense for 
thence, where the tents of the people stood, fresh war- 
cries rose, blended with loud, piteous shrieks which 
seemed to be uttered, not only by men, but by women 
and children. 

The camp had been attacked. 

Long before the commencement of the battle a 
band of Amalekites had separated from the others and 
made their way to it through a path in the mountains 
with which they were familiar. 

Hur thought of his young wife, while before Aaron’s 
mind rose Elisheba, his faithful spouse, his children 
and grandchildren ; and both, with imploring eyes, 
mutely entreated Moses to dismiss them to hasten to 
aid their dear ones ; but the stem leader refused and 
detained them. 

Then, drawing his figure to its full height, Moses 
again raised his hands and eyes to Heaven, appealing 
to the Most High with fervent warmth, and never 
ceasing in his prayers, which became more and more 
ardent as time passed on, for the vantage gained by 
the soldiers seemed lost. Each new glance at the bat- 
tle-field, everything his companions told him, while his 
soul, dwelling with the Lord, had rendered him blind to 
the scene at his feet, increased the burden of his 
anxieties. 


346 


JOSHUA. 


Joshua, at the head of a strong detachment, had 
retreated from the battle, accompanied by Bezaleel, 
Hur’s grandson, Aholiab, his most beloved comrade, 
the youthful Ephraim, and Reuben, Milcah’s hus- 
band. 

Hur’s eyes had followed them, while his heart was 
full of blessings; for they had evidently quitted the 
battle to save the camp. With straining ears he lis- 
tened to the sounds from the north, as if suspecting 
how nearly he was affected by the broken cries and 
moans borne by the wind from the tents. 

Old Nun had defended himself against the Amal- 
ekite troop that assailed the camp, and fought valiantly ; 
but when he perceived that the men whom Joshua 
had placed under his command could no longer hold 
out against the attack of the enemy, he sent to ask for 
aid; Joshua instantly entrusted the farther guidance 
of the battle to the second head of the tribe of Judah, 
Naashon, and Uri the son of Hur, who had disting- 
uished himself by courage and discretion and hastened, 
with other picked men, to his father’s relief. 

He had not lost a moment, yet the conflict was de- 
cided when he appeared on the scene of action ; for 
when he approached the camp the Amalekites had al- 
ready broken through his father’s troops, cut it off from 
them, and rushed in. 

Joshua first saved the brave old man from the foe; 
then the next thing was to drive the sons of the desert 
from the tents and, in so doing, there was a fierce 
hand to hand struggle of man against man, and as he 
himself could be in only one place he was forced to 
leave the young men to shift for themselves. 

Here, too, he raised the war-cry: “Jehovah our 


JOSHUA. 


347 


standard !” and rushed upon the tent of Hur, — 
which the enemy had seized first and where the battle 
raged most fiercely. 

Many corpses already strewed the ground at its en- 
trance, and furious Amalekites were still struggling with 
a band of Hebrews; but wild shrieks of terror rang 
from within its walls. 

Joshua dashed across the threshold as if his feet 
were winged and beheld a scene which filled even the 
fearless man with horror ; for at the left of the spacious 
floor Hebrews and Amalekites rolled fighting on the 
blood-stained mats, while at the right he saw Miriam 
and several of her women whose hands had been 
bound by the foe. 

The men had desired to bear them away as a costly 
prize ; but an Amalekite woman, frantic with rage and 
jealousy and thirsting for revenge, wished to devote the 
foreign women to * a fiery death ; fanning the embers 
upon the hearth she had brought them, with the help of 
the veil torn from Miriam’s head, to a bright blaze. 

A terrible uproar filled the spacious enclosure, when 
Joshua sprang into the tent. 

Here furious men were fighting, yonder the female 
servants of the prophetess were shrieking loudly or, as 
they saw the approaching warrior, screaming for help 
and rescue. 

Their mistress, deadly pale, knelt before the hostile 
chief whose wife had threatened her with death by fire. 

She gazed at her preserver as if she beheld a ghost 
that had just risen from the earth and what now hap- 
pened remained imprinted on Miriam’s memory as a 
series of bloody, horrible, disconnected, yet superb 
visions. 


34 « 


JOSHUA. 


In the first place the Amalekite chieftain who had 
bound her was a strangely heroic figure. 

The bronzed warrior, with his bold hooked nose, 
black beard, and fiery eyes, looked like an eagle of his 
own mountains. But another was soon to cope with 
him, and that other the man who had been dear to her 
heart. 

She had often compared him to a lion, but never 
had he seemed more akin to the king of the wilder- 
ness. 

Both were mighty and terrible men. No one could 
have predicted which would be the victor and which 
the vanquished ; but she was permitted to watch their 
conflict, and already the hot-blooded son of the desert 
had raised his war-cry and rushed upon the more pru- 
dent Hebrew. 

Every child knows that life cannot continue if the 
heart ceases to throb for a minute; yet Miriam felt 
that her own stood still as if benumbed and turned to 
stone, when the lion was in danger of succumbing to 
the eagle, and when the latter’s glittering knife flashed, 
and she saw the blood gushing from the other’s 
shoulder. 

But the frozen heart had now begun to beat again, 
nay it pulsed faster than ever ; for suddenly the leonine 
warrior, toward whom she had just felt such bitter 
hatred, had again become, as if by a miracle, the friend 
of her youth. With blast of trumpets and clash of 
cymbals love had again set forth to enter, with trium- 
phant joy, the soul which had of late been so desolate, 
so impoverished. All that separated her from him was 
suddenly forgotten and buried, and never was a more 
fervent appeal addressed to the Most High than during 


JOSHUA. 


349 


the brief prayer for him which rose from her heart at 
that moment. And the swiftness with which the 
petition was granted equalled its ardor ; for the eagle 
had fallen and lowered its pinions beneath the superior 
might of the lion. 

Then darkness veiled Miriam’s eyes and she felt 
as if in a dream Ephraim sever the ropes around her 
wrists. 

Soon after she regained her full consciousness, and 
now beheld at her feet the bleeding form of the con- 
quered chieftain ; while on the other side of the tent the 
floor was strewed with dead and wounded men, He- 
brews and Amalekites, among them many of her 
husband’s slaves. But beside the fallen men stood 
erect, and exulting in victory, the stalwart warriors of 
her people, among them the venerable form of Nun, 
and Joshua, whose father was binding up his wounds. 

To do this she felt was her duty and hers only, and 
a deep sense of shame, a burning grief took possession 
of her as she remembered how she had sinned against 
this man. 

She knew not how she who had caused him such 
deep suffering could atone for it, how she could repay 
what she owed him. 

Her whole heart was overflowing with longing for 
one kind word from his mouth, and she approached 
him on her knees across the blood-stained floor ; but 
the lips of the prophetess, usually so eloquent, seemed 
paralyzed and could not find the right language till at 
last from her burdened breast the cry escaped in loud 
imploring accents : 

u Joshua, oh, Joshua ! I have sinned heavily against 
you and will atone for it all my life; but do not disdain 


JOSHUA. 


35 ° 

my gratitude! Do not cast it from you and, if you 
can, forgive me.” 

She had been unable to say more; then — never 
would she forget it — burning tears had gushed from 
her eyes and he had raised her from the floor with irre- 
sistible strength, yet as gently as a mother touches her 
fallen child, and from his lips mild, gentle words, full 
of forgiveness, echoed in her ears. The very touch of 
his right hand had assured her that he was no longer 
angry. 

She still felt the pressure of his hand, and heard his 
assurance that from no lips woulcj he more gladly hear 
the name of Joshua than from hers. 

With the war-cry “Jehovah our standard!” he at 
last turned his back upon her; for a long time its 
clear tones and the enthusiastic shouts of his soldiers 
echoed in her ears. 

Finally everything around her had lapsed into 
silence and she only knew that never had she shed 
such bitter, burning tears as in this hour. And she 
made two solemn vows in the presence of the God 
who had summoned her to be His prophetess. 

Meanwhile both the men whom they concerned 
were surrounded by the tumult of battle. 

One had again led his troops from the rescued 
camp against the foe ; the other was watching with the 
leader of the people the surging to and fro of the ever- 
increasing fury of the conflict. 

Joshua found his people in sore stress. Here they 
were yielding, yonder they were still feebly resisting the 
onslaught of the sons of the desert; but Hur gazed 
with increasing and redoubled anxiety at the progress 


JOSHUA. 


351 


of the battle; for in the camp he beheld wife and 
grandson, and below his son, in mortal peril. 

His paternal heart ached as he saw Uri retreat, then 
as he pressed forward again and repelled the foe by a 
well-directed assault, it throbbed joyously, and he 
would gladly have shouted words of praise. 

But whose ear would have been sharp enough to 
distinguish the voice of a single man amid the clash of 
arms and war-cries, the shrieks of women, the wails of 
the wounded, the discordant grunting of the camels, 
the blasts of horns and trumpets mingling below ? 

Now the foremost band of the Amalekites had 
forced itself like a wedge into the rear ranks of the 
Hebrews. 

If the former succeeded in opening a way for those 
behind and joined the division which was attacking 
the camp, the battle was lost, and the destruction of 
the people sealed ; for a body of Amalekites who had 
not mingled in the fray were still stationed at the 
southern entrance of the valley, apparently for the pur- 
pose of defending the oasis against the foe in case of 
need. 

A fresh surprise followed. 

The sons of the desert had fought their way forward 
so far that the missiles of the slingers and bowmen 
could scarcely reach them. If these men were not to 
be idle, it was needful that they should be summoned 
to the battle-field. 

Hur had long since shouted to Uri to remember 
them and use their aid again ; but now the figure of a 
youth suddenly appeared approaching from the direc- 
tion of the camp as nimbly as a mountain goat, by 
climbing and leaping from one rock to another. 

46 


35 2 


JOSHUA. 


As soon as he reached the first ones he spoke to 
them, and made signs to the next, who passed the 
message on, and at last they all climbed down into the 
valley, scaled the western cliff to the height of several 
men, and suddenly vanished as though the rock had 
swallowed them. 

The youth whom the slingers and archers had fol- 
lowed was Ephraim. 

A black shadow on the cliff where he had disap- 
peared with the others must be the opening of a ravine, 
through which they were doubtless to be guided to the 
men who had followed Joshua to the succor of the 
camp. 

Such was the belief, not only of Hur but of Aaron, 
and the former again began to doubt Joshua’s fitness 
for the Lord’s call; for what benefited those in the 
tents weakened the army whose command devolved 
upon his son Uri and his associate in office Naashon. 

The battle around the camp had already lasted for 
hours and Moses had not ceased to pray with hands 
uplifted toward heaven, when the Amalekites succeed- 
ed in gaining a considerable vantage. 

Then the leader of the Hebrews summoned his 
strength for a new and more earnest appeal to the Most 
High ; but the exhausted man’s knees tottered and his 
wearied arms fell. But his soul had retained its energy, 
his heart the desire not to cease pleading to the Ruler of 
Battles. 

Moses was unwilling to remain inactive during this 
conflict and his weapon was prayer. 

Like a child who will not cease urging its mother 
until she grants what it unselfishly beseeches for its 
brothers and sisters, he clung imploring to the Omni- 


JOSHUA. 


353 


potent One, who had hitherto proved Himself a father 
to him and to his people and wonderfully preserved 
them from the greatest perils. 

But his physical strength was exhausted, so he 
summoned his companions who pushed forward a rock 
on which he seated himself, in order to assail the 
heart of the Most High with fresh prayers. 

There he sat and though his wearied limbs refused 
their service, his soul was obedient and rose with 
all its fire to the Ruler of the destinies of men. 

But his arms grew more and more paralysed, and at . 
last fell as if weighted with lead ; for years it had 
become a necessity to him to stretch them heaven- 
ward when he appealed with all his fervor to God 
on high. 

This his companions knew* and they fancied they 
perceived that whenever the great leader’s hands fell 
the sons of Amalek gained a fresh advantage. 

Therefore they eagerly supported his arms, one at 
the right side, the other at the left, and though the 
mighty man could no longer lift his voice in intelligible 
words, though his giant frame reeled to and fro, and 
though more than once it seemed to him as if the stone 
which supported him, the valley and the whole earth 
rocked, still his hands and eyes remained uplifted. Not 
a moment did he cease to call upon the Most High till 
suddenly loud shouts of victory, which echoed clearly 
from the rocky sides of the valley, rose from the direc- 
tion of the camp. 

Joshua had again appeared on the battle-field and, 
at the head of his warriors, rushed with resistless 
energy upon the foe. 

The battle now assumed a new aspect. 


354 


JOSHUA. 


The result was still uncertain, and Moses could not 
cease uplifting his heart and arms to heaven, but at 
last, at last this long final struggle came to an end. 
The ranks of the Amalekites wavered and finally, 
scattered and disheartened, dashed toward the southern 
entrance of the valley whence they had come. 

There also cries were heard and from a thousand 
lips rang the glad shout: “Jehovah our standard! 
Victory !” and again “ Victory !” 

Then the man of God removed his arms from the 
supporting shoulders of his companions, swung them 
aloft freely and with renewed and wonderfully invigor- 
ated strength shouted : 

“ I thank Thee, my God and my Lord ! Jehovah 
our standard ! The people are saved !” 

Then darkness veiled the eyes of the exhausted 
man. But a little later he again opened them and saw 
Ephraim, with the slingers and bowmen, attack the 
body of Amalekites at the -southern entrance of the 
valley, while Joshua drove the main army of the sons 
of the desert toward their retreating comrades. 

Joshua had heard through some captives of a 
ravine which enabled good climbers to reach a defile 
which led to the southern end of the battle-field ; and 
Ephraim, obedient to his command, had gone with the 
slingers and bowmen along this difficult path to assail 
in the rear the last band of foemen who were still 
capable of offering resistance. 

Pressed, harassed from two sides, and disheartened, 
the sons of Amalek gave up the conflict and now the 
Hebrews beheld how these sons of the desert, who had 
grown up in this mountain region, understood how to 
use their feet; for at a sign from their leader they 


JOSHUA. 


355 


spurred the dromedaries and flew away like leaves 
blown by the wind. Rough mountain heights which 
seemed inaccessible to human beings they scaled on 
their hands and feet like nimble lizards ; many others 
escaped through the ravine which the captured slaves 
had betrayed to Joshua. 


CHAPTER XXVIII. 

The larger portion of the Amalekites had perished 
or lay wounded on the battle-field. Joshua knew that 
the other desert tribes, according to their custom, 
would abandon their defeated companions and return 
to their own homes. 

Yet it seemed probable that despair would give the 
routed warriors courage not to let their oasis fall into 
the hands of the Hebrews without striking a blow. 

But Joshua’s warriors were too much exhausted for 
it to be possible to lead them onward at once. 

He himself was bleeding from several slight wounds, 
and the exertions of the last few days were making 
themselves felt even on his hardened frame. 

Besides the sun, which when the battle began had 
just risen, was already sinking to rest and should it 
prove necessary to force an entrance into the oasis it 
was not advisable to fight in darkness. 

What he and still more his brave warriors needed 
was rest until the grey dawn of early morning. 

He saw around him only glad faces, radiant with 
proud self-reliance, and as he commanded the troops 
to disband, in order to celebrate the victory in the 


35 6 


JOSHUA. 


camp with their relatives, each body that filed slowly 
and wearily past him burst into cheers as fresh and 
resonant as though they had forgotten the exhaustion 
which so short a time before had bowed every head 
and burdened every foot. 

“Hail to Joshua! Hail to the victor!” still echoed 
from the cliffs after the last band had disappeared from 
his gaze. But far more distinctly the words with 
which Moses had thanked him rang in his soul. They 
were : 

“Thou hast proved thyself a true sword of the 
Most High, strong and steadfast. So long as the Lord 
is thy help and Jehovah is our standard, we need fear 
no foes.” 

He fancied he still felt on his brow and hair the 
kiss of the mighty man of God who had clasped him to 
his breast in the presence of all the people, and it was 
no small thing to master the excitement which the 
close of this momentous day awakened in him. 

A strong desire to regain perfect self-possession ere 
he again mingled in the jubilant throng and met his 
father, who shared every lofty emotion that stirred his 
own soul, detained him on the battle-field. 

It was a scene where dread and horror reigned; 
for all save himself who lingered there were held by 
death or severe wounds. 

The ravens which had followed the wanderers 
hovered above the corpses and already ventured to 
swoop nearer to the richly-spread banquet. The scent 
of blood had lured the beasts of prey from the moun- 
tains and dens in the rocks and their roaring and greedy 
growling were heard in all directions. 

As darkness followed dusk lights began to flit 


JOSHUA. 


357 


over the blood-soaked ground. These were to aid the 
slaves and those who missed a relative to distinguish 
friend from foe, the wounded from the dead; and many 
a groan from the breast of some sorely-wounded man 
mingled with the croaking of the sable birds, and the 
howls of the hungry jackals and hyenas, foxes and 
panthers. 

But Joshua was familiar with the horrors of the 
battle-field and did not heed them. 

Leaning against a rock, he saw the same stars rise 
which had shone upon him before the tent in the camp 
at Tanis, when in the sorest conflict with himself he 
confronted the most difficult decision of his fife. 

A month had passed since then, yet that brief span 
of time had witnessed an unprecedented transformation 
of his whole inner and outward fife. 

What had seemed to him grand, lofty, and worthy 
of the exertion of all his strength on that night when 
he sat before the tent where lay the delirious Ephraim, 
to-day lay far behind him as idle and worthless. 

He no longer cared for the honors, dignities and 
riches which the will of the whimsical, weak king of 
a foreign people could bestow upon him. What to 
him was the well-ordered and disciplined army, among 
whose leaders he had numbered himself with such 
joyous pride ? 

He could scarcely realize that there had been a 
time when he aspired to nothing higher than to com- 
mand more and still more thousands of Egyptians, 
when his heart had swelled at the bestowal of a new 
title or glittering badge of honor by those whom he 
held most unworthy of his esteem. 


35 « 


JOSHUA. 


From the Egyptians he had expected everything, 
from his own people nothing. 

That very night before his tent the great mass of 
the men of his own blood had been repulsive to him as 
pitiful slaves languishing in dishonorable, servile toil. 
Even the better classes he had arrogantly patronized ; 
for they were but shepherds and as such contemptible 
to the Egyptians, whose opinions he shared. 

His own father was also the owner of herds and, 
though he held him in high esteem, it was in spite of his 
position and only because his whole character com- 
manded reverence ; because the superb old man’s fiery 
vigor won love from every one, and above all from 
him, his grateful son. 

He had never ceased to gladly acknowledge his 
kinship to him, but in other respects he had striven to 
so bear himself among his brothers-in-arms that they 
should forget his origin and regard him in everything 
as one of themselves. His ancestress Asenath, the wife 
of Joseph, had been an Egyptian and he had boasted 
of the fact. 

And now, — to-day ? 

He would have made any one feel the weight of 
his wrath who reproached him with being an Egyptian ; 
and what at the last new moon he would only too 
willingly have cast aside and concealed, as though it 
were a disgrace, made him on the night of the next 
new moon whose stars were just beginning to shine, 
raise his head with joyous pride. 

What a lofty emotion it was to feel himself with 
just complacency the man he really was! 

His life and deeds as an Egyptian chief now seemed 
like a perpetual lie, a constant desertion of his ideal. 


JOSHUA. 


359 


His truthful nature exulted in the consciousness that 
the base denial and concealment of his birth was at 
an end. 

With joyous gratitude he felt that he was one of 
the people whom the Most High preferred to all others, 
that he belonged to a community, whose humblest 
members, nay even the children, could raise their hands 
in prayer to the God whom the loftiest minds among the 
Egyptians surrounded with the barriers of secrecy, be- 
cause they considered their people too feeble and dull 
of intellect to stand before His mighty grandeur and 
comprehend it. 

And this one sole God, before whom all the whole 
motley world of Egyptian divinities sank into insignifi- 
cance, had chosen him, the son of Nun, from among 
the thousands of his race to be the champion and de- 
fender of His chosen people and bestowed on him a 
name that assured him of His aid. 

No man, he thought, had ever had a loftier aim 
than, obedient to his God and under His protection, to 
devote his blood and life to the service of his own 
people. His black eyes sparkled more brightly and 
joyously as he thought of it. His heart seemed too 
small to contain all the love with which he wished to 
make amends to his brothers for his sins against them 
in former years. 

True, he had lost to another a grand and noble 
woman whom he had hoped to make his own; but 
this did not in the least sadden the joyous enthusiasm 
of his soul ; for he had long ceased to desire her as his 
wife, high as her image still stood in his mind. He 
now thought of her with quiet gratitude only ; for he 
willingly admitted that his new life had begun on the 


3 6 ° 


JOSHUA. 


decisive night when Miriam set him the example of 
sacrificing everything, even the dearest object of love, 
to God and the people. 

Miriam’s sins against him were effaced from his 
memory ; for he was wont to forget what he had for- 
given. Now he felt only the grandeur of what he 
owed her. Like a magnificent tree, towering skyward 
on the frontier of two hostile countries, she stood be- 
tween his past and his present life. Though love was 
buried, he and Miriam could never cease to walk hand 
in hand over the same road toward the same desti- 
nation. 

As he again surveyed the events of the past, he 
could truly say that under his leadership pitiful bond- 
men had speedily become brave warriors- In the field 
they had been willing and obedient and, after the vic- 
tory, behaved with manliness. And they could not fail 
to improve with each fresh success. To-day it seemed 
to him not only desirable, but quite possible, to win in 
battle at their head a land which they could love and 
where, in freedom and prosperity, they could become 
the able men he desired to make them. 

Amid the horrors of the battle-field in the moonless 
night joy as bright as day entered his heart and with 
the low exclamation : “ God and my people !” and a 
grateful glance upward to the starry firmament he left 
the corpse-strewn valley of death like a conqueror 
walking over palms and flowers scattered by a grate- 
ful people on the path of victory. 


JOSHUA. 


361 


CONCLUSION. 

There was an active stir in the camp. 

Fires surrounded by groups of happy human beings 
were burning in front of the tents, and many a beast 
was slain, here as a thank-offering, yonder for the 
festal supper. 

Wherever Joshua appeared glad cheers greeted him; 
but he did not find his father, for the latter had accept- 
ed an invitation from Hur, so it was before the prince 
of Judah’s tent that the son embraced the old man, 
who was radiant with grateful joy. 

Ere Joshua sat down Hur beckoned him aside, or- 
dered a slave who had just killed a calf to divide it 
into two pieces and pointing to it, said : 

“ You have accomplished great deeds for the people 
and for me, son of Nun, and my life is too short for the 
gratitude which is your due from my wife and myself. 
If you can forget the bitter words which clouded our 
peace at Dophkah — and you say you have done so — 
let us in future keep together like brothers and stand by 
each other in joy and grief, in need and peril. The chief 
command henceforth belongs to you alone, Joshua, 
and to no other, and this is a source of joy to the whole 
people, above all to my wife and to me. So if you 
share my wish to form a brotherhood, walk with me, 
according to the custom of our fathers, between the 
halves of this slaughtered animal.” 

Joshua willingly accepted this invitation, and Miriam 
was the first to join in the loud acclamations of approval 


362 


JOSHUA. 


commenced by the grey-haired Nun. She did so with 
eager zeal; for it was she who had inspired her hus- 
band, before whom she had humbled herself, and 
whose love she now once more possessed, with the idea 
of inviting Joshua to the alliance both had now con- 
cluded. 

This had not been difficult for her; for the two 
vows she had made after the son of Nun, whom she 
now gladly called “Joshua,” had saved her from the 
hand of the foe were already approaching fulfilment, 
and she felt that she had resolved upon them in a 
happy hour. 

The new and pleasant sensation of being a woman, 
like any other woman, lent her whole nature a gentleness 
hitherto foreign to it, and this retained the love of the 
husband whose full value she had learned to know 
during the sad time in which he had shut his heart 
against her. 

In the selfsame hour which made Hur and Joshua 
brothers, a pair of faithful lovers who had been sun- 
dered by sacred duties were once more united; for 
while the friends were still feasting before the tent of 
Hur, three of the people asked permission to speak to 
Nun, their master. These were the old freedwoman, 
who had remained in Tanis, her granddaughter Hogla 
and Assir, the latter’s betrothed husband, from whom 
the girl had parted to nurse her grandparents. 

Hoary Eliab had soon died, and the grandmother 
and Hogla — the former on the old man’s ass — had 
followed the Hebrews amid unspeakable difficulties. 

Nun welcomed the faithful couple with joy and 
gave Hogla to Assir for his wife. 


JOSHUA. 363 

So this blood-stained day had brought blessings to 
many, yet it was to end with a shrill discord. 

While the fires in the camp were burning, loud 
voices were heard, and during the whole journey not 
an evening had passed without strife and sanguinary 
quarrels. 

Wounds and fatal blows had often been given 
when an offended man revenged himself on his enemy, 
or a dishonest one seized the property of others or 
denied the obligations he had sworn to fulfil. 

In such cases it had been difficult to restore peace 
and call the criminals to account; for the refractory 
refused to recognize any one as judge. Whoever felt 
himself injured banded with others, and strove to 
obtain justice by force. 

On that festal evening Hur and his guests at first 
failed to notice the uproar to which every one was ac- 
customed. But when close at hand, amid the fiercest 
yells, a bright glare of light arose, the chiefs began to 
fear for the safety of the camp, and rising to put an end 
to the disturbance, they became witnesses of a scene 
which filled some with wrath and horror, and the 
others with grief. 

The rapture of victory had intoxicated the multi- 
tude. 

They longed to express their gratitude to the deity, 
and in vivid remembrance of the cruel worship of their 
home, a band of Phoenicians among the strangers had 
kindled a huge fire to their Moloch and were in the act 
of hurling into the flames several Amalekite captives as 
the most welcome sacrifice to their god. 

Close beside it the Israelites had erected on a tall 
wooden pillar a clay image of the Egygtian god Seth, 


3 6 4 


JOSHUA. 


which one of his Hebrew worshippers had brought 
with him to protect himself and his family. 

Directly after their return to the camp Aaron had 
assembled the people to sing hymns of praise and offer 
prayers of thanksgiving; but to many the necessity of 
beholding, in the old-fashioned way, an image of the 
god to whom they were to uplift their souls, had been 
so strong that the mere sight of the clay idol had 
sufficed to bring them to their knees, and turn them 
from the true God. 

At the sight of the servants of Moloch, who were 
already binding the human victims to hurl them into 
the flames, Joshua was seized with wrath and, when 
the deluded men resisted, he ordered the trumpets to 
be sounded and with his young men who blindly 
obeyed him and were by no means friendly to the 
strangers, drove them back, without bloodshed, to 
their quarters in the camp. 

The impressive warnings of old Nun, Hur, and 
Naashon diverted the Hebrews from the crime which 
ingratitude made doubly culpable. Yet many of the 
latter found it hard to control themselves when the 
fiery old man shattered the idol which was dear to 
them, and had it not been for the love cherished for 
him, his son, and his grandson, and the respect due his 
snow-white hair, many a hand would doubtless have 
been raised against him. 

Moses had retired to a solitary place, as was his 
wont after every great danger from which the mercy of 
the Most High brought deliverance, and tears filled 
Miriam’s eyes as she thought of the grief which the 
tidings of such apostasy and ingratitude would cause 
her noble brother. 


JOSHtJA. 


3 6 5 


A gloomy shadow had also darkened Joshua’s 
joyous confidence. He lay sleepless on the mat in his 
father’s tent, reviewing the past. 

His warrior-soul was elevated by the thought that 
a single, omnipotent, never-erring Power guided the 
universe and the lives of men and exacted implicit 
obedience from the whole creation. Every glance at 
nature and life showed him that everything depended 
upon One infinitely great and powerful Being, at whose 
sign all creatures rose, moved, or sank to rest. 

To him, the chief of a little army, his God was the 
highest and most far-sighted of rulers, the only One, 
who was always certain of victory. 

What a crime it was to offend such a Lord and 
repay His benefits with apostasy ! 

Yet the people had committed before his eyes 
this heinous sin and, as he recalled to mind the 
events which had compelled him to interpose, the 
question arose how they were to be protected from the 
wrath of the Most High, how the eyes of the dull 
multitude could be opened to His wonderful grandeur, 
which expanded the heart and the soul. 

But he found no answer, saw no expedient, when 
he reflected upon the lawlessness and rebellion in the 
camp, which threatened to be fatal to his people. 

He had succeeded in making his soldiers obedient. 
As soon as the trumpets summoned them, and he him- 
self in full armor appeared : at the head of his men, 
they yielded their own obstinate wills to his. Was 
there then nothing that could keep them, during peace- 
ful daily life, within the bounds which in Egypt secured 
the existence of the meanest and weakest human 


3 66 


JOSHUA. 


beings and protected them from the attacks of those 
who were bolder and stronger ? 

Amid such reflections he remained awake until 
early morning ; when the stars set, he started up, 
ordered the trumpets to be sounded, and as on the 
preceding days, the new-made troops assembled with- 
out opposition and in full force. 

He was soon marching at their head through the 
narrow, rocky valley, and after moving silently an hour 
through the gloom the warriors enjoyed the refreshing 
coolness which precedes the young day. 

Then the grey light of early dawn glimmered in the 
east, the sky began to brighten, and in the glowing 
splendor of the blushing morning rose solemnly in giant 
majesty the form of the sacred mountain. 

Close at hand and distinctly visible it towered before 
the Hebrews with its brown masses of rock, cliffs, and 
chasms, while above the seven peaks of its summit 
hovered a pair of eagles on whose broad pinions the 
young day cast a shimmering golden glow. 

A thrill of pious awe made the whole band halt as 
they had before Alush, and every man, from the first 
rank to the last, in mute devotion raised his hands to 
pray. 

Then they moved on with hearts uplifted, and one 
shouted joyously to another as some pretty dark birds 
flew twittering toward them, a sign of the neighborhood 
of fresh water. 

They had scarcely marched half an hour longer 
when they beheld the bluish-green foliage of tamarisk 
bushes and the towering palm-trees ; at last, the most 
welcome of all sounds in the wilderness fell on their 
listening ears — the ripple of flowing water. 


JOSHUA. 


367 


This cheered their hearts, and the majestic spectacle 
of Mount Sinai,* whose heaven-louching summit was 
now concealed by a veil of blue mist, filled with de- 
vout amazement the souls of the men who had grown 
up on the flat plains of Goshen. 

They pressed cautiously forward ; for the remainder 
of the defeated Amalekites might be lying in ambush. 

But no foe was seen or heard, and the Hebrews 
found some tokens of the thirst for vengeance of the 
sons of the wilderness in their ruined houses, the 
superb palm-trees felled, and little gardens destroyed. 

It was necessary now to remove from the road the 
slender trunks with their huge leafy crowns, that they 
might not impede the progress of the people; and, 
when this work was done, Joshua ascended through a 
ravine which led to the brook in the valley, up to the 
first terrace of the mountain, that he might gaze around 
him far and near for a view of the enemy. 

The steep pathway led past masses of red granite, 
intersected by veins of greenish diorite, until he reached 
a level plateau high above the oasis, where, beside a 
clear spring, green bushes and delicate mountain 
flowers adorned the barren wilderness. 

Here he intended to rest and, as he ga2ed around 
him, he perceived in the shadow of an overhanging 
cliff a man’s tall figure. 

It was Moses. 

* The mountain known at the present day as Serbal, not the 
Sinai of the monks which in our opinion was first declared in the 
reign of Justinian to be the mount whence the laws were given. The 
detailed reasons for our opinion that Serbal is the Sinai of the Scrip- 
tures, which Lepsius expressed before us and others share with us 
may be found in our works: “ Durch Gosen zum Sinai, aus dem 
Wanderbuch und der Bibliothek.” a Aufl. Leipzig. 1882. Wilh. 
Engelmann. 


47 


3 68 


JOSHUA. 


The flight of his thoughts had rapt him so far away 
from the present and his surroundings, that he did not 
perceive Joshua’s approach, and the latter was restrained 
by respectful awe from approaching the man of God. 

He waited patiently till the latter raised his bearded 
face and greeted him with friendly dignity. 

Then they gazed together at the oasis and the 
desolate stony valleys of the mountain region at their 
feet. The emerald waters of a small portion of the 
Red Sea, which washed the western slope of the 
mountain, also glittered beneath them. 

Meanwhile they talked of the people and the 
greatness and omnipotence of the God who had so 
wonderfully guided them, and as they looked north- 
ward, they beheld the endlessly long stream of 
Hebrews, which, following the curves of the rocky 
valley, was surging slowly toward the oasis. 

Then Joshua opened his heart to the man of God 
and told him the questions he had asked himself during 
the past sleepless night, and to which he had found no 
answer. The latter listened quietly, and in deep, 
faltering tones answered in broken sentences : 

“ The lawlessness in the camp — ay, it is ruining 
the people ! But the Lord placed the power to destroy 
it in our hands. Woe betide him who resists. They 
must feel this power, which is as sublime as yonder 
mountain, as immovable as its solid rock.” 

Then Moses’ wrathful words ceased. 

After both had gazed silently into vacancy a long 
time, Joshua broke the silence by asking : 

“ And what is the name of this power ?” 

Loudly and firmly from the bearded lips of the 
man of God rang the words : 


JOSHUA. 


369 


“ The law !” 

He pointed with his staff to the summit of the 
mountain. 

Then, waving his hand to his companion, he left 
him. Joshua completed his search for the foe and saw 
on the yellow sands of the valley dark figures moving 
to and fro. 

They were the remnants of the defeated Amalekite 
bands seeking new abodes. 

He watched them a short time and, after convin- 
cing himself that they were quitting the oasis, he 
thoughtfully returned to the valley. 

“ The law !” he repeated again and again. 

Ay, that was what the wandering tribes lacked. It 
was doubtless reserved for its severity to transform the 
hordes which had escaped bondage into a people 
worthy of the God who preferred them above the other 
nations of the earth. 

Here the chief’s reflections were interrupted; for 
human voices, the lowing and bleating of herds, the 
barking of dogs, and the heavy blows of hammers rose 
to his ears from the oasis. 

They were pitching the tents, a work of peace, for 
which no one needed him. 

Lying down in the shadow of a thick tamarisk 
bush, above which a tall palm towered proudly, he 
stretched his limbs comfortably to rest in the assurance 
that the people were now provided for, in war by his 
good sword, in peace by the Law. This was much, it 
renewed his hopes; yet, no, no — it was not all, 
could not be the final goal. The longer he reflected, 
the more profoundly he felt that this was not enough to 
satisfy him concerning those below, whom he cherished 


JOSHUA. 


37 ^ 

in his heart as if they were brothers and sisters. His 
broad brow again clouded, and roused from his repose 
by fresh doubts, he gently shook his head. 

No, again no ! The Law could not afford to those 
who were so dear to him everything that he desired for 
them. Something else was needed to make their future 
as dignified and beautiful as he had beheld it before his 
mind’s eye on his journey to the mines. 

But what was it, what name did this other need 
bear ? 

He began to rack his brain to discover it, and while, 
with closed lids, he permitted his thoughts to rove to 
the other nations whom he had known in war and 
peace, in order to seek among them the one thing his 
own people lacked, sleep overpowered him and a dream 
showed him Miriam and a lovely girl, who looked like 
Kasana as she had so often rushed to meet him when 
a sweet, innocent child, followed by the white lamb 
which Nun had given to his favorite many years 
before. 

Both figures offeted him a gift and asked him to 
choose one or the other. 

Miriam’s hand held a heavy gold tablet, at whose 
top was written in flaming letters : “ The Law !” and 
which she offered with stern severity. The child ex- 
tended one of the beautifully-curved palm-leaves which 
he had often waved as a messenger of peace. 

The sight of the tablet filled him with pious awe, 
the palm-branch waved a friendly greeting and he 
quickly grasped it. But scarcely was it in his hand ere 
the figure of the prophetess melted into the air like 
mist, which the morning breeze blows away. In pain- 
ful astonishment he now gazed at the spot where she 


JOSHUA. 


371 


had stood, and surprised and troubled by his strange 
choice, though he felt that he had made the right 
one, he asked the child what her gift imported to him 
and to the people. 

She waved her hand to him, pointed into the dis- 
tance, and uttered three words whose gentle musical 
sound sank deep into his heart. Yet hard as he strove 
to catch their purport, he did not succeed, and when 
he asked the child to explain them the sound of his 
own voice roused him and he returned to the camp, 
disappointed and thoughtful. 

Afterwards he often tried to remember these words, 
but always in vain. All his great powers, both mental 
and physical, he continued to devote to the people; but 
his nephew Ephraim, as a powerful prince of his tribe, 
who well deserved the high honors he enjoyed in after 
years, founded a home of his own, where old Nun 
watched the growth of great-grand-children, who prom- 
ised a long perpetuation of his noble race. 

Everyone is familiar with Joshua’s later life, so rich 
in action, and how he won in battle a new home for 
his people. 

There in the Promised Land many centuries later 
was born, in Bethlehem, another Jehoshua who be- 
stowed on all mankind what the son of Nun had vainly 
sought for the Hebrew nation. 

The three words uttered by the child’s lips which 
the chief had been unable to comprehend were : 

“ Love, Mercy, Redemption !” 


END. 


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